UC-NRLF 


B    M    10M    QMS 


JIMBO 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK   •   BOSTON  •    CHICAGO 
ATLANTA  •   SAN  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON  •  BOMBAY  •   CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


J  I  M  B  O 


A   FANTASY 


BY 


ALGERNON    BLACKWOOD 

AUTHOR  OF  "  JOHN  SILENCE,"  "  THE  LISTENER," 
"THE   EMPTY   HOUSE,"    ETC. 


gorfc 

THE   MACMILLAN    COMPANY 
1909 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1909, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 

Set  up  and  electrotyped.    Published  February,  1909. 


,T.  8.  Cuahing  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


TO 

a.  s.  B. 

(1900) 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   I 

"RABBITS"    .  ... 

CHAPTER   II 
Miss  LAKE  COMES  —  AND  GOES  .        ...        .      16 

CHAPTER  III 
THE  SHOCK          .        .        .....        .      30 

CHAPTER   IV 
ON  THE  EDGE     .        .        .        .        .       ,        .        .      38 

CHAPTER  V 
INTO  THE  EMPTY  HOUSE    .        .        .        ...      42 

CHAPTER  VI 
His  PRISON  FRIEND    .        ...        .        .        .      56 

CHAPTER  VII 
UNDER  THE  SPELL       .  73 

CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  GALLERY  OF  MEMORIES 87 


viii  Contents 

CHAPTER  IX 

PAGE 

THE  MEANS  OF  ESCAPE 95 

CHAPTER  X 
THE  PLUNGE 113 

CHAPTER  XI 
THE  FIRST  FLIGHT 123 

CHAPTER  XII 
THE  FOUR  WINDS 133 

CHAPTER  XIII 
FLIGHT .144 

CHAPTER  XIV 
AN  ADVENTURE 154 

CHAPTER  XV 
THE  CALL  OF  THE  BODY    .        .        *        .        .        .168 

CHAPTER  XVI 
PREPARATION       .        »        .        .        .        .        .        .178 

CHAPTER  XVII 
OFF! 192 

CHAPTER  XVIII 
HOME  .        .        .        .        .        ..       ...        .    204 


JIM BO:   A   FANTASY 


CHAPTER  I 


JIMBO'S  governess  ought  to  have  known  better  — 
but  she  didn't.  If  she  had,  Jimbo  would  never 
have  met  with  the  adventures  that  subsequently 
came  to  him.  Thus,  in  a  roundabout  sort  of  way, 
the  child  ought  to  have  been  thankful  to  the  gov- 
erness; and  perhaps,  in  a  roundabout  sort  of  way,  he 
was.  But  that  comes  at  the  far  end  of  the  story, 
and  is  doubtful  at  best;  and  in  the  meanwhile  the 
child  had  gone  through  his  suffering,  and  the  gov- 
erness had  in  some  measure  expiated  her  fault;  so 
that  at  this  stage  it  is  only  necessary  to  note  that 
the  whole  business  began  because  the  Empty  House 
happened  to  be  really  an  Empty  House  —  not  the 
one  Jimbo 's  family  lived  in,  but  another  of  which 
more  will  be  known  in  due  course. 

Jimbo' s  father  was  a  retired  Colonel,  who  had 
married  late  in  life,  and  now  lived  all  the  year  round 
in  the  country;  and  Jimbo  was  the  youngest  child 
but  one.  The  Colonel,  lean  in  body  as  he  was 
sincere  in  mind,  an  excellent  soldier  but  a  poor 
diplomatist,  loved  dogs,  horses,  guns  and  riding- 


2  Jimbo  CHAP. 

whips.  He  also  really  understood  them.  His 
neighbours,  had  they  been  asked,  would  have  called 
him  hard-headed,  and  so  far  as  a  soft-hearted  man 
may  deserve  the  title,  he  probably  was.  He  rode 
two  horses  a  day  to  hounds  with  the  best  of  them, 
and  the  stiffer  the  country  the  better  he  liked  it. 
Besides  his  guns,  dogs  and  horses,  he  was  also  very 
fond  of  his  children.  It  was  his  hobby  that  he 
understood  them  far  better  than  his  wife  did,  or 
than  any  one  else  did,  for  that  matter.  The  proper 
evolution  of  their  differing  temperaments  had  no 
difficulties  for  him.  The  delicate  problems  of  child 
nature,  which  defy  solution  by  nine  parents  out  of 
ten,  ceased  to  exist  the  moment  he  spread  out  his 
muscular  hand  in  a  favourite  omnipotent  gesture 
and  uttered  some  extraordinarily  foolish  generality 
in  that  thunderous,  good-natured  voice  of  his.  The 
difficulty  for  himself  vanished  when  he  ended  up 
with  the  words,  "Leave  that  to  me,  my  dear;  believe 
me,  I  know  best!"  But  for  all  else  concerned,  and 
especially  for  the  child  under  discussion,  this  was 
when  the  difficulty  really  began. 

Since,  however,  the  Colonel,  after  this  chapter, 
mounts  his  best  hunter  and  disappears  over  a  high 
hedge  into  space  so  far  as  our  story  is  concerned, 
any  further  delineation  of  his  wholesome,  but  very 
ordinary,  type  is  unnecessary. 

One    winter's    evening,     not    very    long     after 


i  "  Rabbits "  3 

Christmas,  the  Colonel  made  a  discovery.  It 
alarmed  him  a  little;  for  it  suggested  to  his  cock- 
sure mind  that  he  did  not  understand  all  his 
children  as  comprehensively  as  he  imagined. 

Between  five  o'clock  tea  and  dinner  —  that  magic 
hour  when  lessons  were  over  and  the  big  house  was 
full  of  shadows  and  mystery  —  there  came  a  timid 
knock  at  the  study  door. 

"Come  in,"  growled  the  soldier  in  his  deepest 
voice,  and  a  little  girl's  face,  wreathed  in  tumbling 
brown  hair,  poked  itself  hesitatingly  through  the 
opening. 

The  Colonel  did  not  like  being  disturbed  at  this 
hour,  and  everybody  in  the  house  knew  it;  but  the 
spell  of  Christmas  holidays  was  still  somehow  in  the 
air,  and  the  customary  order  was  not  yet  fully  re- 
established. Moreover,  when  he  saw  who  the 
intruder  was,  his  growl  modified  itself  into  a  sort 
of  common  sternness  that  yet  was  not  cleverly 
enough  simulated  to  deceive  the  really  intuitive 
little  person  who  now  stood  inside  the  room. 

"Well,  Nixie,  child,  what  do  you  want  now?" 

"Please,  father,  will  you  —  we  wondered  if " 

A  chorus  of  whispers  issued  from  the  other  side 
of  the  door: 

" Go  on,  silly!" 

"Out  with  it!" 

"You  promised  you  would,  Nixie." 


4  Jimbo  CHAP. 

" if  you  would  come  and  play  Rabbits  with 

us?"  came  the  words  in  a  desperate  rush,  with 
laughter  not  far  behind. 

The  big  man  with  the  fierce  white  moustaches 
glared  over  the  top  of  his  glasses  at  the  intruder 
as  if  amazed  beyond  belief  at  the  audacity  of  the 
request. 

"Rabbits!"  he  exclaimed,  as  if  the  mere 
word  ought  to  have  caused  an  instant  explosion. 
"Rabbits!" 

"Oh,  please  do." 

"Rabbits  at  this  time  of  night!"  he  repeated. 
"I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing.  Why,  all  good 
rabbits  are  asleep  in  their  holes  by  this  time.  And 
you  ought  to  be  in  yours  too  by  rights,  I'm  sure." 

"We  don't  sleep  in  holes,  father,"  said  the  owner 
of  the  brown  hair,  who  was  acting  as  leader. 

"And  there's  still  an  hour  before  bedtime,  really" 
added  a  voice  in  the  rear. 

The  big  man  slowly  put  his  glasses  down  and 
looked  at  his  watch.  He  looked  very  savage,  but 
of  course  it  was  all  pretence,  and  the  children  knew 
it.  "If  he  was  really  cross  he'd  pretend  to  be 
nice,"  they  whispered  to  each  other,  with  merciless 
perception. 

"Well — "  he  began.  But  he  who  hesitates,  with 
children,  is  lost.  The  door  flung  open  wide,  and 
the  troop  poured  into  the  room  in  a  medley  of  long 


i  "  Rabbits »  5 

black  legs,  flying  hair  and  outstretched  hands.  They 
surrounded  the  table,  swarmed  upon  his  big  knees, 
shut  his  stupid  old  book,  tried  on  his  glasses,  kissed 
him,  and  fell  to  discussing  the  game  breathlessly  all 
at  once,  as  though  it  had  already  begun. 

This,  of  course,  ended  the  battle,  and  the  big 
man  had  to  play  the  part  of  the  Monster  Rabbit 
in  a  wonderful  game  of  his  own  invention.  But 
when,  at  length,  it  was  all  over,  and  they  were 
gathered  panting  round  the  fire  of  blazing  logs  in 
the  hall,  the  Monster  Rabbit  —  the  only  one  with 
any  breath  at  his  command  —  looked  up  and  spoke. 

"Where's  Jimbo?"  he  asked. 

"Upstairs." 

"Why  didn't  he  come  and  play  too?" 

"He  didn't  want  to." 

"Why?    What's  he  doing?" 

Several  answers  were  forthcoming. 

"Nothing  in  p'tickler." 

"Talking  to  the  furniture  when  I  last  saw  him." 

"  Just  thinking,  as  usual,  or  staring  in  the  fire." 

None  of  the  answers  seemed  to  satisfy  the 
Monster  Rabbit,  for  when  he  kissed  them  a  little 
later  and  said  good-night,  he  gave  orders,  with  a 
graver  face,  for  Jimbo  to  be  sent  down  to  the  study 
before  he  went  to  bed.  Moreover,  he  called  him 
"James,"  which  was  a  sure  sign  of  parental  dis- 
pleasure. 


6  Jimbo  CHAP. 

"  James,  why  didn't  you  come  and  play  with  your 
brothers  and  sisters  just  now?"  asked  the  Colonel, 
as  a  dreamy-eyed  boy  of  about  seven,  with  a  mop 
of  dark  hair  and  a  wistful  expression,  came  slowly 
forward  into  the  room. 

"I  was  in  the  middle  of  making  pictures." 

"  Where  —  what  —  making  pictures  ?  " 

"In  the  fire." 

"James,"  said  the  Colonel  in  a  serious  tone, 
"don't  you  know  that  you  are  getting  too  old  now 
for  that  sort  of  thing?  If  you  dream  so  much, 
you'll  fall  asleep  altogether  some  fine  day,  and  never 
wake  up  again.  Just  think  what  that  means!" 

The  child  smiled  faintly  and  moved  up  con- 
fidingly between  his  father's  knees,  staring  into  his 
eyes  without  the  least  sign  of  fear.  But  he  said 
nothing  in  reply.  His  thoughts  were  far  away,  and 
it  seemed  as  if  the  effort  to  bring  them  back  into 
the  study  and  to  a  consideration  of  his  father's  words 
was  almost  beyond  his  power. 

"You  must  run  about  more,"  pursued  the  soldier, 
rubbing  his  big  hands  together  briskly,  "and  join 
your  brothers  and  sisters  in  their  games.  Lie  about 
in  the  summer  and  dream  a  bit  if  you  like,  but  now 
it's  winter,  you  must  be  more  active,  and  make 
your  blood  circulate  healthily,  —  er  —  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing." 

The  words  were  kindly  spoken,  but  the  voice  and 


i  "  Rabbits "  7 

manner  rather  deliberate.  Jimbo  began  to  look  a 
little  troubled,  as  his  father  watched  him. 

"Come  now,  little  man,"  he  said  more  gently, 
"what's  the  matter,  eh?"  He  drew  the  boy  close 
to  him.  "Tell  me  all  about  it,  and  what  it  is  you're 
always  thinking  about  so  much." 

Jimbo  brought  back  his  mind  with  a  tremendous 
effort,  and  said,  "I  don't  like  the  winter.  It's  so 
dark  and  full  of  horrid  things.  It's  all  ice  and 
shadows,  so  —  so  I  go  away  and  think  of  what  I  like, 
and  other  places " 

"Nonsense!"  interrupted  his  father  briskly; 
"winter's  a  capital  time  for  boys.  What  in  the 
world  d'ye  mean,  I  wonder?" 

He  lifted  the  child  on  to  his  knee  and  stroked 
his  hair,  as  though  he  were  patting  the  flank  of  a 
horse.  Jimbo  took  no  notice  of  the  interruption 
or  of  the  caress,  but  went  on  saying  what  he  had  to 
say,  though  with  eyes  a  little  more  clouded. 

"Winter's  like  going  into  a  long  black  tunnel, 
you  see.  It's  downhill  to  Christmas,  of  course,  and 
then  uphill  all  the  way  to  the  summer  holidays. 
But  the  uphill  part's  so  slow  that " 

"Tut,  tut!"  laughed  the  Colonel  in  spite  of  him- 
self; "you  mustn't  have  such  thoughts.  Those  are 
a  baby's  notions.  They're  silly,  silly,  silly." 

"Do  you  really  think  so,  father?"  continued  the 
boy,  as  if  politeness  demanded  some  recognition  of 


8  Jimbo  CHAP. 

his  father's  remarks,  but  otherwise  anxious  only  to 
say  what  was  in  his  mind.  "You  wouldn't  think 
them  silly  if  you  really  knew.  But,  of  course, 
there's  no  one  to  tell  you  in  the  stable,  so  you  can't 
know.  You've  never  seen  the  funny  big  people 
rushing  past  you  and  laughing  through  their  long 
hair  when  the  wind  blows  so  loud.  /  know  several 
of  them  almost  to  speak  to,  but  you  hear  only  wind. 
And  the  other  things  with  tiny  legs  that  skate  up 
and  down  the  slippery  moonbeams,  without  ever 
tumbling  off  —  they  aren't  silly  a  bit,  only  they  don't 
like  dogs  and  noise.  And  I've  seen  the  furniture" 
—  he  pronounced  it  furchinur  —  "dancing  about  in 
the  day-nursery  when  it  thought  it  was  alone,  and 
I've  heard  it  talking  at  night.  I  know  the  big  cup- 
board's voice  quite  well.  It's  just  like  a  drum,  only 
rougher.  ..." 

The  Colonel  shook  his  head  and  frowned  severely, 
staring  hard  at  his  son.  But  though  their  eyes  met, 
the  boy  hardly  saw  him.  Far  away  at  the  other  end 
of  the  dark  Tunnel  of  the  Months  he  saw  the  white 
summer  sunshine  lying  over  gardens  full  of  nodding 
flowers.  Butterflies  were  flitting  across  meadows 
yellow  with  buttercups,  and  he  saw  the  fascinating 
rings  upon  the  lawn  where  the  Fairy  People  held 
their  dances  in  the  moonlight;  he  heard  the  wind 
call  to  him  as  it  ran  along  by  the  hedgerows,  and 
saw  the  gentle  pressure  of  its  swift  feet  upon  the 


i  "  Rabbits "  g 

standing  hay;  streams  were  murmuring  under  shady 
trees;  birds  were  singing;  and  there  were  echoes 
of  sweeter  music  still  that  he  could  not  understand, 
but  loved  all  the  more  perhaps  on  that  account. 

"Yes,"  announced  the  Colonel  later  that  evening 
to  his  wife,  spreading  his  hands  out  as  he  spoke. 
"Yes,  my  dear,  I  have  made  a  discovery,  and  an 
alarming  one.  You  know,  I'm  rarely  at  fault  where 
the  children  are  concerned  —  and  I've  noted  all  the 
symptoms  with  unusual  care.  James,  my  dear,  is 
an  imaginative  boy." 

He  paused  to  note  the  effect  of  his  words,  but 
seeing  none,  continued: 

"I  regret  to  be  obliged  to  say  it,  but  it's  a  fact 
beyond  dispute.  His  head  is  simply  full  of  things, 
and  he  talked  to  me  this  evening  about  tunnels  and 
slippery  moonlight  till  I  very  nearly  lost  my  temper 
altogether.  Now,  the  boy  will  never  make  a  man 
unless  we  take  him  in  hand  properly  at  once.  We 
must  get  him  a  governess,  or  something,  without 
delay.  Just  fancy,  if  he  grew  up  into  a  poet  or  one 
of  these  — these " 

In  his  distress  the  soldier  could  only  think  of 
horse-terms,  which  did  not  seem  quite  the  right 
language.  He  stuck  altogether,  and  kept  repeating 
the  favourite  gesture  with  his  open  hand,  staring  at 
his  wife  over  his  glasses  as  he  did  so. 

But  the  mother  never  argued. 


io  Jimbo  CHAP. 

"He's  very  young  still,"  she  observed  quietly, 
"and,  as  you  have  always  said,  he's  not  a  bit  like 
other  boys,  remember." 

"Exactly  what  I  say.  Now  that  your  eyes 
are  opened  to  the  actual  state  of  affairs,  I'm 
satisfied." 

"We'll  get  a  sensible  nursery-governess  at  once," 
added  the  mother. 

"A  practical  one?" 

"Yes,  dear." 

"Hard-headed?" 

"Yes." 

"And  well  educated?" 

"Yes." 

"And  —  er  —  firm  with  children.  She'll  do  for 
the  lot,  then." 

"If  possible." 

"And  a  young  woman  who  doesn't  go  in  for 
poetry,  and  dreaming,  and  all  that  kind  of  flum- 
mery." 

"Of  course,  dear." 

"Capital.  I  felt  sure  you  would  agree  with  me," 
he  went  on.  "It'd  be  no  end  of  a  pity  if  Jimbo 
grew  up  an  ass.  At  present  he  hardly  knows  the 
difference  between  a  roadster  and  a  racer.  He's 
going  into  the  army,  too,"  he  added  by  way  of 
climax,  "and  you  know,  my  dear,  the  army  would 
never  stand  that!  " 


i  "Rabbits"  ii 

"Never,"  said  the  mother  quietly,  and  the  con- 
versation came  to  an  end. 

Meanwhile,  the  subject  of  these  remarks  was  lying 
wide  awake  upstairs  in  the  bed  with  the  yellow  iron 
railing  round  it.  His  elder  brother  was  asleep  in 
the  opposite  corner  of  the  room,  snoring  peacefully. 
He  could  just  see  the  brass  knobs  of  the  bedstead 
as  the  dying  firelight  quivered  and  shone  on  them. 
The  walls  and  ceiling  were  draped  in  shadows  that 
altered  their  shapes  from  time  to  time  as  the  coals 
dropped  softly  into  the  grate.  Gradually  the  fire 
sank,  and  the  room  darkened.  A  feeling  of  delight 
and  awe  stole  into  his  heart. 

Jimbo  loved  these  early  hours  of  the  night  before 
sleep  came.  He  felt  no  fear  of  the  dark;  its  mystery 
thrilled  his  soul;  but  he  liked  the  summer  dark, 
with  its  soft,  warm  silences  better  than  the  chill 
winter  shadows.  Presently  the  firelight  sprang  up 
into  a  brief  flame  and  then  died  away  altogether 
with  an  odd  little  gulp.  He  knew  the  sound  well; 
he  often  watched  the  fire  out,  and  now,  as  he  lay  in 
bed  waiting  for  he  knew  not  what,  the  moonlight 
filtered  in  through  the  baize  curtains  and  gradually 
gave  to  the  room  a  wholly  new  character. 

Jimbo  sat  up  in  bed  and  listened.  The  house 
was  very  still.  He  slipped  into  his  red  dressing- 
gown  and  crept  noiselessly  over  to  the  window. 
For  a  moment  he  paused  by  his  brother's  bed  to 


12  Jimbo  CHAP. 

make  sure  that  he  really  was  asleep;  then,  evidently 
satisfied,  he  drew  aside  a  corner  of  the  curtain  and 
peered  out. 

"Oh!"  he  said,  drawing  in  his  breath  with  delight, 
and  again  "oh!" 

It  was  difficult  to  understand  why  the  sea  of  white 
moonlight  that  covered  the  lawn  should  fill  him 
with  such  joy,  and  at  the  same  time  bring  a  lump 
into  his  throat.  It  made  him  feel  as  if  he  were 
swelling  out  into  something  very  much  greater  than 
the  actual  limits  of  his  little  person.  And  the 
sensation  was  one  of  mingled  pain  and  delight,  too 
intense  for  him  to  feel  for  very  long.  The  unhap- 
piness  passed  gradually  away,  he  always  noticed, 
and  the  happiness  merged  after  a  while  into  a  sort 
of  dreamy  ecstasy  in  which  he  neither  thought  nor 
wished  much,  but  was  conscious  only  of  one  single 
unmanageable  yearning. 

The  huge  cedars  on  the  lawn  reared  themselves  up 
like  giants  in  silver  cloaks,  and  the  horse-chestnut  — 
the  Umbrella  Tree,  as  the  children  called  it  —  loomed 
with  motionless  branches  that  were  frosted  and 
shining.  Beyond  it,  in  a  blue  mist  of  moonlight 
and  distance,  lay  the  kitchen-garden;  he  could  just 
make  out  the  line  of  the  high  wall  where  the  fruit 
trees  grew.  Immediately  below  him  the  gravel  of 
the  carriage  drive  sparkled  with  frost. 

The  bars  of  the  windows  were  cold  to  his  hands, 


i  "  Rabbits "  13 

yet  he  stood  there  for  a  long  time  with  his  nose 
flattened  against  the  pane  and  his  bare  feet  on  the 
cane  chair.  He  felt  both  happy  and  sad;  his  heart 
longed  dreadfully  for  something  he  had  not  got, 
something  that  seemed  out  of  his  reach  because  he 
could  not  name  it.  No  one  seemed  to  believe  all 
the  things  he  knew  in  quite  the  same  way  as  he  did. 
His  brothers  and  sisters  played  up  to  a  certain  point, 
and  then  put  the  things  aside  as  if  they  had  only 
been  assumed  for  the  time  and  were  not  real.  To 
him  they  were  always  real.  His  father's  words,  too, 
that  evening  had  sorely  puzzled  him  when  he  came 
to  think  over  them  afterwards:  " They're  a  baby's 
notions.  .  .  .  They're  silly,  silly,  silly."  Were  these 
things  real  or  were  they  not  ?  And,  as  he  pondered? 
yearning  dumbly,  as  only  these  little  souls  can  yearn, 
the  wistfulness  in  his  heart  went  out  to  meet  the 
moonlight  in  the  air.  Together  they  wove  a  spell 
that  seemed  to  summon  before  him  a  fairy  of  the 
night,  who  whispered  an  answer  into  his  heart:  "  We 
are  real  so  long  as  you  believe  in  us.  It  is  your 
imagination  that  makes  us  real  and  gives  us  life. 
Please,  never,  never,  stop  believing." 

Jimbo  was  not  quite  sure  that  he  understood  the 
message,  but  he  liked  it  all  the  same,  and  felt 
comforted.  So  long  as  they  believed  in  one  another, 
the  rest  did  not  matter  very  much  after  all.  And 
when  at  last,  shivering  with  cold,  he  crept  back  to 


14  Jimbo  CHAP. 

bed,  it  was  only  to  find  through  the  Gates  of  Sleep 
a  more  direct  way  to  the  things  he  had  been  thinking 
about,  and  to  wander  for  the  rest  of  the  night, 
unwatched  and  free,  through  the  wonders  of  an 
Enchanted  Land. 

Jimbo,  as  his  father  had  said,  was  an  imaginative 
child.  Most  children  are  —  more  or  less;  and  he  was 
"more,"  at  least  "more"  than  his  brothers  and 
sisters.  The  Colonel  thought  he  had  made  a  pene- 
trating discovery,  but  his  wife  had  known  it  always. 
His  head,  indeed,  was  "full  of  things,"  —  things  that, 
unless  trained  into  a  channel  where  they  could  be 
controlled  and  properly  schooled,  would  certainly 
interfere  with  his  success  in  a  practical  world,  and  be 
a  source  of  mingled  pain  and  joy  to  him  all  through 
life.  To  have  trained  these  forces,  ever  bursting 
out  towards  creation,  in  his  little  soul,  —  to  have 
explained,  interpreted,  and  dealt  fairly  by  them, 
would  perhaps  have  been  the  best  and  wisest  way; 
to  have  suppressed  them  altogether,  cleaned  them 
out  by  the  process  of  substitution,  this  might  have 
succeeded  too  in  less  measure;  but  to  turn  them 
into  a  veritable  rout  of  horror  by  the  common  method 
of  "frightening  the  nonsense  out  of  the  boy,"  this  was 
surely  the  very  worst  way  of  dealing  with  such  a 
case,  and  the  most  cruel.  Yet,  this  was  the  method 
adopted  by  the  Colonel  in  the  robust  good-nature  of 
his  heart,  and  the  utter  ignorance  of  his  soul. 


i  "  Rabbits "  15 

So  it  came  about  that  three  months  later,  when 
May  was  melting  into  June,  Miss  Ethel  Lake 
arrived  upon  the  scene  as  a  result  of  the  Colonel's 
blundering  good  intentions.  She  brought  with  her 
a  kind  disposition,  a  supreme  ignorance  of  unordinary 
children,  a  large  store  of  self-confidence  —  and  a 
corded  yellow  tin  box. 


CHAPTER  II 

MISS  LAKE  COMES  —  AND   GOES 

THE  conversation  took  place  suddenly  one  after- 
noon, and  no  one  knew  anything  about  it  except  the 
two  who  took  part  in  it:  the  Colonel  asked  the 
governess  to  try  and  knock  the  nonsense  out  of 
Jimbo's  head,  and  the  governess  promised  eagerly 
to  do  her  very  best.  It  was  her  first  "place";  and 
by  "nonsense"  they  both  understood  imagination. 
True  enough,  Jimbo's  mother  had  given  her  rather 
different  instructions  as  to  the  treatment  of  the  boy, 
but  she  mistook  the  soldier's  bluster  for  authority, 
and  deemed  it  best  to  obey  him.  This  was  her  first 
mistake. 

In  reality  she  was  not  devoid  of  imaginative 
insight;  it  was  simply  that  her  anxiety  to  prove  a 
success  permitted  her  better  judgment  to  be  over- 
borne by  the  Colonel's  boisterous  manner. 

The  wisdom  of  the  mother  was  greater  than  that 
of  her  husband.  For  the  safe  development  of  that 
tender  and  imaginative  little  boy  of  hers,  she  had 
been  at  great  pains  to  engage  a  girl  —  a  clergyman's 
daughter  —  who  possessed  sufficient  sympathy  with 
the  poetic  and  dreamy  nature  to  be  of  real  help  to 

16 


CHAP,  n       Miss  Lake  Comes  —  and  Goes  17 

him;  for  true  help,  she  knew,  can  only  come  from 
true  understanding.  And  Miss  Lake  was  a  good 
girl.  She  was  entirely  well-meaning  —  which  is  the 
beginning  of  well-doing,  and  her  principal  weakness 
lay  in  her  judgment,  which  led  her  to  obey  the 
Colonel  too  literally. 

"She  seems  most  sensible,"  he  declared  to  his  wife. 

"Yes,  dear." 

"And  practical." 

"I  think  so." 

"And  firm  and  —  er  —  wise  with  children." 

"I  hope  so." 

"Just  the  sort  for  young  Jimbo,"  added  the 
Colonel  with  decision. 

"I  trust  so;   she's  a  little  young,  perhaps." 

"Possibly,  but  one  can't  get  everything,"  said  her 
husband,  in  his  horse-and-dog  voice.  "A  year  with 
her  should  clean  out  that  fanciful  brain  of  his,  and 
prepare  him  for  school  with  other  boys.  He'll  be 
all  right  once  he  gets  to  school.  My  dear,"  he 
added,  spreading  out  his  right  hand,  fingers  extended, 
"you've  made  a  most  wise  selection.  I  congratulate 
you.  I'm  delighted." 

"  I'm  so  glad." 

"Capital,  I  repeat,  capital.  You're  a  clever  little 
woman.  I  knew  you'd  find  the  right  party,  once  I 
showed  you  how  the  land  lay." 


1 8  Jimbo  CHAP. 

The  Empty  House,  that  stood  in  its  neglected 
garden  not  far  from  the  park  gates,  was  built  on 
a  point  of  land  that  entered  wedgewise  into  the 
Colonel's  estate.  Though  something  of  an  eyesore, 
therefore,  he  could  do  nothing  with  it. 

To  the  children  it  had  always  been  an  object  of 
peculiar,  though  not  unwholesome,  mystery.  None 
of  them  cared  to  pass  it  on  a  stormy  day  —  the  wind 
made  such  odd  noises  in  its  empty  corridors  and 
rooms  —  and  they  refused  point-blank  to  go  within 
hailing  distance  of  it  after  dark.  But  in  Jimbo's 
imagination  it  was  especially  haunted,  and  if  he  had 
ceased  to  reveal  to  the  others  what  he  knew  went  on 
under  its  roof,  it  was  only  because  they  were  unable 
to  follow  him,  and  were  inclined  to  greet  his  ex- 
travagant recitals  with  "Now,  Jimbo,  you  know 
perfectly  well  you're  only  making  up." 

The  House  had  been  empty  for  many  years; 
but,  to  the  children,  it  had  been  empty  since  the 
beginning  of  the  world,  since  what  they  called  the 
"  very  beginning."  They  believed  —  well,  each  child 
believed  according  to  his  own  mind  and  powers,  but 
there  was  at  least  one  belief  they  all  held  in  common; 
for  it  was  generally  accepted  as  an  article  of  faith 
that  the  Indians,  encamped  among  the  shrubberies 
on  the  back  lawn,  secretly  buried  their  dead  behind 
the  crumbling  walls  of  its  weedy  garden — the  "dead" 
provided  by  the  children's  battles,  be  it  understood. 


ii  Miss  Lake  Comes  —  and  Goes  19 

Wakeful  ears  in  the  night  nursery  had  heard  strange 
sounds  coming  from  that  direction  when  the  windows 
were  open  on  hot  summer  nights;  and  the  gardener, 
supreme  authority  on  all  that  happened  in  the 
night  (since  they  believed  that  he  sat  up  to  watch 
the  vegetables  and  fruit  trees  ripen,  and  never 
went  to  bed  at  all),  was  evidently  of  the  same  per- 
suasion. 

When  appealed  to  for  an  explanation  of  the 
mournful  wind-voices  he  knew  what  was  expected 
of  him,  and  rose  manfully  to  the  occasion. 

"It's  either  them  Redskins  aburyin'  wot  you 
killed  of  'em  yesterday,"  he  declared,  pointing 
towards  the  Empty  House  with  a  bit  of  broken 
flower-pot,  "or  else  it's  the  ones  you  killed  last 
week,  and  who  was  always  astealin'  of  my  strorbriz." 
He  looked  very  wise  as  he  said  this,  and  his  wand 
of  office  —  a  dirty  trowel  —  which  he  held  in  his 
hand,  gave  him  tremendous  dignity. 

"That's  just  what  we  thought,  and  of  course  if 
you  say  so  too,  that  settles  it,"  said  Nixie. 

"It's  more'n  likely,  missie,  leastways  from  wot 
you  describes,  which  it  is  a  hempty  house  all  the 
same,  though  I  can't  say  as  I've  heard  no  sounds, 
not  very  distinct  that  is,  myself." 

The  gardener  may  have  been  anxious  to  hedge  a 
bit,  for  fear  of  a  scolding  from  headquarters,  but 
his  cryptic  remark  pleased  the  children  greatly, 


2O 


Jimbo  CHAP. 


because  it  showed,  they  thought,  that  they  knew 
more  than  the  gardener  did. 

Thus  the  Empty  House  remained  an  object  of 
somewhat  dreadful  delight,  lending  a  touch  of 
wonderland  to  that  part  of  the  lane  where  it  stood, 
and  forming  the  background  for  many  an  enchant- 
ing story  over  the  nursery  fire  in  winter-time.  It 
appealed  vividly  to  their  imaginations,  especially  to 
Jimbo' s.  Its  dark  windows,  without  blinds,  were 
sometimes  full  of  faces  that  retreated  the  moment 
they  were  looked  at.  That  tangled  ivy  did  not 
grow  over  the  roof  so  thickly  for  nothing;  and 
those  high  elms  on  the  western  side  had  not  been 
planted  years  ago  in  a  semicircle  without  a  reason. 
Thus,  at  least,  the  children  argued,  not  knowing 
exactly  what  they  meant,  not  caring  much,  so  long 
as  they  proved  to  their  own  satisfaction  that  the 
place  was  properly  haunted,  and  therefore  worthy  of 
their  attention. 

It  was  natural  they  should  lead  Miss  Lake  in  that 
direction  on  one  of  their  first  walks  together,  and  it 
was  natural,  too,  that  she  should  at  once  discover 
from  their  manner  that  the  place  was  of  importance. 

"What  a  queer-looking  old  house,"  she  remarked, 
when  they  turned  the  corner  of  the  lane  and  it  came 
into  view.  "Almost  a  ruin,  isn't  it?" 

The  children  exchanged  glances.  A  "ruin"  did 
not  seem  the  right  sort  of  word  at  all;  and,  besides, 


ii  Miss  Lake  Comes  —  and  Goes  21 

was  a  little  disrespectful.  Also,  they  were  not  sure 
whether  the  new  governess  ought  to  be  told  every- 
thing so  soon.  She  had  not  really  won  their  confi- 
dence yet.  After  a  slight  pause  —  and  a  children's 
pause  is  the  most  eloquent  imaginable  —  Nixie,  be- 
ing the  eldest,  said  in  a  stiff  little  voice:  "It's  the 
Empty  House,  Miss  Lake.  We  know  it  very  well 
indeed." 

"It  looks  empty,"  observed  Miss  Lake  briskly. 

"But  it's  not  a  ruin,  of  course,"  added  the  child, 
with  the  cold  dignity  of  chosen  spokesman. 

"Oh!"  said  the  governess,  quite  missing  the 
point.  She  was  talking  lightly  on  the  surface  of 
things,  wholly  ignorant  of  the  depths  beneath  her 
feet,  intuition  with  her  having  always  been  sternly 
repressed. 

"It's  a  gamekeeper's  cottage,  or  something  like 
that,  I  suppose,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  no;    it  isn't  a  bit." 

"Doesn't  it  belong  to  your  father,  then?" 

"No.     It's  somebody  else's,  you  see." 

"Then  you  can't  have  it  pulled  down?" 

"Rather  not!  Of  course  not!"  exclaimed  several 
indignant  voices  at  once. 

Miss  Lake  perceived  for  the  first  time  that  it  held 
more  than  ordinary  importance  in  their  mind. 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  she  said.  '"What  is  its 
history,  and  who  used  to  live  in  it?" 


22  Jimbo  CHAP. 

There  came  another  pause.  The  children  looked 
into  each  others'  faces.  They  gazed  at  the  blue 
sky  overhead;  then  they  stared  at  the  dusty  road 
at  their  feet.  But  no  one  volunteered  an  answer. 
Miss  Lake,  they  felt,  was  approaching  the  subject  in 
an  offensive  manner. 

"Why  are  you  all  so  mysterious  about  it?"  she 
went  on.  "It's  only  a  tumble-down  old  place,  and 
must  be  very  draughty  to  live  in,  even  for  a  game- 
keeper." 

Silence. 

"  Come,  children,  don't  you  hear  me  ?  I'm  asking 
you  a  question." 

A  couple  of  startled  birds  flew  out  of  the  ivy 
with  a  great  whirring  of  wings.  This  was  followed 
by  a  faint  sound  of  rumbling,  that  seemed  to  come 
from  the  interior  of  the  house.  Outside  all  was 
still,  and  the  hot  sunshine  lay  over  everything. 
The  sound  was  repeated.  The  children  looked 
at  each  other  with  large,  expectant  eyes.  Some- 
thing in  the  house  was  moving  —  was  coming 
nearer. 

"Have  you  all  lost  your  tongues?"  asked  the 
governess  impatiently. 

"But  you  see,"  Nixie  said  at  length,  "somebody 
does  live  in  it  now." 

"And  who  is  he?" 

"I  didn't  say  it  was  a  man" 


ii  Miss  Lake  Comes  —  and  Goes  23 

"Whoever  it  is  —  tell  me  about  the  person," 
persisted  Miss  Lake. 

"There's  really  nothing  to  tell,"  replied  the  child, 
without  looking  up. 

"Oh,  but  there  must  be  something,"  declared 
the  logical  young  governess,  "or  you  wouldn't 
object  so  much  to  its  being  pulled  down." 

Nixie  looked  puzzled,  but  Jimbo  came  to  the 
rescue  at  once. 

"But  you  wouldn't  understand  if  we  did  tell  you," 
he  said,  in  a  slow,  respectful  voice.  His  tone  held 
a  touch  of  that  indescribable  scorn  heard  sometimes 
in  a  child's  voice  —  the  utter  contempt  for  the  stu- 
pid grown-up  creature.  Miss  Lake  noticed  and  felt 
annoyed.  She  recognised  that  she  was  not  getting 
on  well  with  the  children,  and  it  piqued  her.  She 
remembered  the  Colonel's  words  about  "knocking 
the  nonsense  out"  of  James's  head,  and  she  saw  that 
her  first  opportunity,  in  fact  her  first  real  test,  was 
at  hand. 

"And  why,  pray,  should  I  not  understand?"  she 
asked,  with  some  sharpness.  "Is  the  mystery  so 
very  great?" 

For  some  reason  the  duty  of  spokesman  now 
devolved  unmistakably  upon  Jimbo;  and  very 
seriously,  too,  he  accepted  the  task,  standing  with 
his  feet  firmly  planted  in  the  road  and  his  hands 
in  his  trousers  pockets. 


24  Jimbo  CHAP. 

"You  see,  Miss  Lake,"  he  began  gravely,  "we 
know  such  a  lot  of  Things  in  there,  that  they  might 
not  like  us  to  tell  you  about  them.  They  don't 
know  you  yet.  If  they  did  it  might  be  different. 
But  —  but  —  you  see,  it  isn't." 

This  was  rather  crushing  to  the  aspiring  educator, 
and  the  Colonel's  instructions  gained  additional 
point  in  the  light  of  the  boy's  explanation. 

"Fiddlesticks!"  she  laughed,  "there's  probably 
nothing  at  all  in  there,  except  rats  and  cobwebs. 
' Things/  indeed!" 

"I  knew  you  wouldn't  understand,"  said  Jimbo 
coolly,  with  no  sign  of  being  offended.  "How 
could  you?"  He  glanced  at  his  sisters,  gaining  so 
much  support  from  their  enigmatical  faces  that  he 
added,  for  their  especial  benefit,  "How  could  she?" 

"The  gard'ner  said  so,  too,"  chimed  in  a  younger 
sister,  with  a  vague  notion  that  their  precious  Empty 
House  was  being  robbed  of  its  glory. 

"Yes;  but  James,  dear,  I  do  understand  per- 
fectly," continued  Miss  Lake  more  gently,  and 
wisely  ignoring  the  reference  to  the  authority  of 
the  kitchen-garden.  "  Only,  you  see,  I  cannot  really 
encourage  you  in  such  nonsense " 

"It  isn't  nonsense,"  interrupted  Jimbo,  with  heat. 

"But,  believe  me,  children,  it  is  nonsense.  How 
do  you  know  that  there's  anything  inside?  You've 
never  been  there!" 


ii  Miss  Lake  Comes  —  and  Goes  25 

"You  can  know  perfectly  well  what's  inside  a 
thing  without  having  gone  there,"  replied  Jimbo  with 
scorn.  "At  least,  we  can." 

Miss  Lake  changed  her  tack  a  little  —  fatally,  as  it 
appeared  afterwards. 

"I  know  at  any  rate,"  she  said  with  decision,  "that 
there's  nothing  good  in  there.  Whatever  there  may 
be  is  bad,  thoroughly  bad,  and  not  fit  for  you  to 
play  with." 

The  other  children  moved  away,  but  Jimbo  stood 
his  ground.  They  were  all  angry,  disappointed,  sore 
hurt  and  offended.  But  Jimbo  suddenly  began  to 
feel  something  else  besides  anger  and  vexation.  It 
was  a  new  point  of  view  to  him  that  the  Empty 
House  might  contain  bad  things  as  well  as  good,  or 
perhaps,  only  bad  things.  His  imagination  seized 
upon  the  point  at  once  and  set  to  work  vigorously  to 
develop  it.  This  was  his  way  with  all  such  things, 
and  he  could  not  prevent  it. 

"Bad  Things?"  he  repeated,  looking  up  at  the 
governess.  "You  mean  Things  that  could  hurt?" 

"Yes,  of  course,"  she  said,  noting  the  effect  of  her 
words  and  thinking  how  pleased  the  Colonel  would 
be  later,  when  he  heard  it.  "Things  that  might  run 
out  and  catch  you  some  day  when  you're  passing  here 
alone,  and  take  you  back  a  prisoner.  Then  you'd 
be  a  prisoner  in  the  Empty  House  all  your  life. 
Think  of  that!" 


26  Jimbo  CHAP. 

Miss  Lake  mistook  the  boy's  silence  as  proof  that 
she  was  taking  the  right  line.  She  enlarged  upon 
this  view  of  the  matter,  now  she  was  so  successfully 
launched,  and  described  the  inmate  of  the  house  with 
such  wealth  of  detail  that  she  felt  sure  her  listener 
would  never  have  anything  to  do  with  the  place 
again,  and  that  she  had  " knocked  out"  this  particular 
bit  of  "nonsense"  for  ever  and  a  day. 

But  to  Jimbo  it  was  a  new  and  horrible  idea  that 
the  Empty  House,  haunted  hitherto  only  by  rather 
jolly  and  wonderful  Red  Indians,  contained  a 
Monster  who  might  take  him  prisoner,  and  the 
thought  made  him  feel  afraid.  The  mischief  had, 
of  course,  been  done,  and  the  terror  in  his  eyes 
was  unmistakable,  when  the  foolish  governess  saw 
her  mistake.  Retreat  was  impossible;  the  boy 
was  shaking  with  fear,  and  not  all  Miss  Lake's 
genuine  sympathy,  or  Nixie's  explanations  and 
soothings,  were  able  to  relieve  his  mind  of  its  new 
burden. 

Hitherto  Jimbo's  imagination  had  loved  to  dwell 
upon  the  pleasant  side  of  things  invisible;  but  now 
he  had  been  severely  frightened,  and  his  imagination 
took  a  new  turn.  Not  only  the  Empty  House,  but 
all  his  inner  world,  to  which  it  was  in  some  sense  the 
key,  underwent  a  distressing  change.  His  sense  of 
horror  had  been  vividly  aroused. 

The  governess  would  willingly  have  corrected  her 


ii  Miss  Lake  Comes  —  and  Goes  27 

mistake,  but  was,  of  course,  powerless  to  do  so. 
Bitterly  she  regretted  her  tactlessness  and  folly.  But 
she  could  do  nothing,  and  to  add  to  her  distress,  she 
saw  that  Jimbo  shrank  from  her  in  a  way  that  could 
not  long  escape  the  watchful  eye  of  the  mother. 
But,  if  the  boy  shed  tears  of  fear  that  night  in  his 
bed,  it  must  in  justice  be  told  that  she,  for  her  part, 
cried  bitterly  in  her  own  room,  not  that  she  had 
endangered  her  "place,"  but*  that  she  had  done  a 
cruel  injury  to  a  child,  and  that  she  was  helpless  to 
undo  it.  For  she  loved  children,  though  she  was 
quite  unsuited  to  take  care  of  them.  Her  just  re- 
ward, however,  came  swiftly  upon  her. 

A  few  nights  later,  when  Jimbo  and  Nixie  were 
allowed  to  come  down  to  dessert,  the  wind  was 
heard  to  make  a  queer,  moaning  sound  in  the 
wistaria  tree  that  hung  over  the  dining-room 
windows.  Jimbo  heard  it,  too.  He  held  his  breath 
for  a  minute;  then  he  looked  round  the  table  in  a 
frightened  way,  and  the  next  minute  gave  a  scream 
and  burst  into  tears.  He  ran  round  and  buried  his 
face  in  his  father's  arms. 

After  the  tears  came  the  truth.  It  was  a  bad 
thing  for  Miss  Ethel  Lake,  this  little  joke  of  the 
wind  and  the  wistaria  tree,  for  the  Djin  of  terror 
she  had  thoughtlessly  evoked  swept  into  the  room 
and  introduced  himself  to  the  parents  without  her 
leave. 


28  Jimbo  CHAP. 

"What  new  nonsense  is  this  now?"  growled  the 
soldier,  leaving  his  walnuts  and  lifting  the  boy  on  to 
his  knee.  "He  shouldn't  come  down  till  he's  a 
little  older,  and  knows  how  to  behave." 

"What's  the  matter,  darling  child?"  asked  the 
mother,  drying  his  eyes  tenderly. 

"I  heard  the  bad  Things  crying  in  the  Empty 
House." 

"The  Empty  House  is  a  mile  away  from  here!" 
snorted  the  Colonel. 

"Then  it's  come  nearer,"  declared  the  frightened 
boy. 

"Who  told  you  there  were  bad  things  in  the 
Empty  House?"  asked  the  mother. 

"Yes,  who  told  you,  indeed,  I  should  like  to 
know!"  demanded  the  Colonel. 

And  then  it  all  came  out.  The  Colonel's  wife 
was  very  quiet,  but  very  determined.  Miss  Lake 
went  back  to  the  clerical  family  whence  she  had 
come,  and  the  children  knew  her  no  more. 

"I'm  glad,"  said  Nixie,  voicing  the  verdict  of  the 
nursery.  "I  thought  she  was  awfully  stupid." 

"She  wasn't  a  real  lake  at  all,"  declared  another; 
"she  was  only  a  sort  of  puddle." 

Jimbo,  however,  said  little,  and  the  Colonel 
likewise  held  his  peace. 

But  the  governess,  whether  she  was  a  lake  or  only 
a  puddle,  left  her  mark  behind  her.  The  Empty 


ii  Miss  Lake  Comes  —  and  Goes  29 

House  was  no  longer  harmless.  It  had  a  new  lease 
of  life.  It  was  tenanted  by  some  one  who  could 
never  have  friendly  relations  with  children.  The 
weeds  in  the  old  garden  took  on  fantastic  shapes; 
figures  hid  behind  the  doors  and  crept  about  the 
passages;  the  rooks  in  the  high  elms  became  birds 
of  ill-omen;  the  ivy  bristled  upon  the  walls,  and  the 
trivial  explanations  of  the  gardener  were  no  longer 
satisfactory. 

Even  in  bright  sunshine  a  Shadow  lay  sprawling 
over  the  broken  roof.  At  any  moment  it  might 
leap  into  life,  and  with  immense  striding  legs  chase 
the  children  down  to  the  very  park  gates. 

There  was  no  need  to  enforce  the  decree  that  the 
Empty  House  was  a  forbidden  land.  The  children 
of  their  own  accord  declared  it  out  of  bounds,  and 
avoided  it  as  carefully  as  if  all  the  wild  animals  from 
the  zoo  were  roaming  its  gardens,  hungry  and 
unchained. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   SHOCK 

ONE  immediate  result  of  Miss  Lake's  indiscretion 
was  that  the  children  preferred  to  play  on  the  other 
side  of  the  garden,  the  side  farthest  from  the  Empty 
House.  A  spiked  railing  here  divided  them  from  a 
field  in  which  cows  disported  themselves,  and  as  a 
bull  also  was  sometimes  there,  the  field  was  strictly 
out  of  bounds. 

In  this  spiked  railing,  not  far  from  the  great 
shrubberies  where  the  Indians  increased  and  mul- 
tiplied, there  was  a  swinging  gate.  The  children 
swung  on  it  whenever  they  could.  They  called  this 
Express  Trains,  and  the  fact  that  it  was  forbidden 
only  added  to  their  pleasure.  When  opened  at  its 
widest  the  gate  would  swing  them  with  a  rush  through 
the  air,  past  the  pillars  with  a  click,  out  into  the 
field,  and  then  back  again  into  the  garden.  It  was 
bad  for  the  hinges,  and  it  was  also  bad  for  the  gar- 
den, because  the  gate  was  frequently  left  open  after 
these  carnivals,  and  the  cows  got  in  and  trod  the 
flowers  down.  The  children  were  not  afraid  of  the 
cows,  but  they  held  the  bull  in  great  horror.  And 

30 


CHAP,  in  The  Shock  31 

these  trivial  things  have  been  mentioned  here  be- 
cause of  the  part  they  played  in  Jimbo's  subsequent 
adventures. 

It  was  only  ten  days  or  so  after  Miss  Lake's 
sudden  departure  when  Jimbo  managed  one  evening 
to  elude  the  vigilance  of  his  lawful  guardians,  and 
wandered  off  unnoticed  among  the  laburnums  on 
the  front  lawn.  From  the  laburnums  he  passed 
successfully  to  the  first  laurel  shrubbery,  and  thence 
he  executed  a  clever  flank  movement  and  entered 
the  carriage  drive  in  the  rear.  The  rest  was  easy, 
arid  he  soon  found  himself  at  the  Lodge  gate. 

For  some  moments  he  peered  through  the  iron 
grating,  and  pondered  on  the  seductiveness  of  the 
dusty  road  and  of  the  ditch  beyond.  To  his  surprise 
he  found,  presently,  that  the  gate  was  moving  out- 
wards; it  was  yielding  to  his  weight.  One  thing 
leads  easily  to  another  sometimes,  and  the  open  gate 
led  easily  on  to  the  seductive  road.  The  result  was 
that  a  minute  later  Jimbo  was  chasing  butterflies 
along  the  green  lane,  and  throwing  stones  into  the 
water  of  the  ditch. 

It  was  the  evening  of  a  hot  summer's  day,  and 
the  butterflies  were  still  out  in  force.  Jimbo's 
delight  was  intense.  The  joy  of  finding  himself 
alone  where  he  had  no  right  to  be  put  everything 
else  out  of  his  head,  and  for  some  time  he  wandered 
on,  oblivious  of  all  but  the  intoxicating  sense  of 


32  Jimbo  CHAP. 

freedom  and  the  difficulty  of  choosing  between  so 
many  butterflies  and  such  a  magnificently  dirty  ditch. 

At  first  he  yielded  to  the  seductions  of  the  ditch. 
He  caught  a  big,  sleepy  beetle  and  put  it  on  a  violet 
leaf,  and  sent  it  sailing  out  to  sea;  and  when  it 
landed  on  the  farther  shore  he  found  a  still  bigger 
leaf,  and  sent  it  forth  on  a  voyage  in  another  direc- 
tion, with  a  cargo  of  daisy  petals,  and  a  hairy  cater- 
pillar for  a  bo' sun's  mate.  But,  just  as  the  vessel 
was  getting  under  way,  a  butterfly  of  amazing 
brilliance  floated  past  insolently  under  his  very  nose. 
Leaving  the  beetle  and  the  caterpillar  to  navigate 
the  currents  as  best  they  could,  he  at  once  gave 
chase.  Cap  in  hand,  he  flew  after  the  butterfly 
down  the  lane,  and  a  dozen  times  when  his  cap  was 
just  upon  it,  it  sailed  away  sideways  without  the 
least  effort  and  escaped  him. 

Then,  suddenly,  the  lane  took  a  familiar  turning; 
the  ditch  stopped  abruptly;  the  hedge  on  his  right 
fell  away  altogether;  the  butterfly  danced  out  of 
sight  into  a  field,  and  Jimbo  found  himself  face  to 
face  with  the  one  thing  in  the  whole  world  that 
could,  at  that  time,  fill  him  with  abject  terror  —  the 
Empty  House. 

He  came  to  a  full  stop  in  the  middle  of  the  road 
and  stared  up  at  the  windows.  He  realised  for  the 
first  time  that  he  was  alone,  and  that  it  was  possible 
for  brilliant  sunshine,  even  on  a  cloudless  day,  to 


in  The  Shock  33 

become  somehow  lustreless  and  dull.  The  walls 
showed  a  deep  red  in  the  sunset  light.  The  house 
was  still  as  the  grave.  His  feet  were  rooted  to  the 
ground,  and  it  seemed  as  if  he  could  not  move  a 
single  muscle;  and  as  he  stood  there,  the  blood 
ebbing  quickly  from  his  heart,  the  words  of  the 
governess  a  few  days  before  rushed  back  into  his 
mind,  and  turned  his  fear  into  a  dreadful,  all- 
possessing  horror.  In  another  minute  the  battered 
door  would  slowly  open  and  the  horrible  Inmate 
come  out  to  seize  him.  Already  there  was  a  sound 
of  something  moving  within,  and  as  he  gazed, 
fascinated  with  terror,  a  shuddering  movement  ran 
over  the  ivy  leaves  hanging  down  from  the  roof. 
Then  they  parted  in  the  middle,  and  something  — 
he  could  not  in  his  agony  see  what  —  flew  out  with 
a  whirring  sound  into  his  face,  and  then  vanished 
over  his  shoulder  into  the  fields. 

Jimbo  did  not  pause  a  single  second  to  find  out 
what  it  was,  or  to  reflect  that  any  ordinary  thrush 
would  have  made  just  the  same  sound.  The  shock 
it  gave  to  his  heart  immediately  loosened  the  muscles 
of  his  little  legs,  and  he  ran  for  his  very  life.  But 
before  he  actually  began  to  run  he  gave  one  piercing 
scream  for  help,  and  the  person  he  screamed  to  was 
the  very  person  who  was  unwittingly  the  cause  of 
his  distress.  It  was  as  though  he  knew  instinctively 
that  the  person  who  had  created  for  him  the  terror 


34  Jimbo  CHAP. 

of  the  Empty  House,  with  its  horrible  Inmate,  was 
also  the  only  person  who  could  properly  banish  it, 
and  undo  the  mischief  before  it  was  too  late.  He 
shrieked  for  help  to  the  governess,  Miss  Ethel 
Lake. 

Of  course,  there  was  no  answer  but  the  noise  of 
the  air  whistling  in  his  ears  as  his  feet  flew  over  the 
road  in  a  cloud  of  dust;  there  was  no  friendly 
butcher's  cart,  no  baker's  boy,  or  farmer  with  his 
dog  and  gun;  the  road  was  deserted.  There  was 
not  even  the  beetle  or  the  caterpillar;  he  was 
beyond  reach  of  help. 

Jimbo  ran  for  his  life,  but  unfortunately  he  ran 
in  the  wrong  direction.  Instead  of  going  the  way 
he  had  come,  where  the  Lodge  gates  were  ready  to 
receive  him  not  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  he  fled  in 
the  opposite  direction. 

It  so  happened  that  the  lane  flanked  the  field 
where  the  cows  lived;  but  cows  were  nothing  com- 
pared to  a  Creature  from  the  Empty  House,  and 
even  bulls  seemed  friendly.  The  boy  was  over  the 
five-barred  gate  in  a  twinkling  and  half-way  across 
the  field  before  he  heard  a  heavy,  thunderous  sound 
behind  him.  Either  the  Thing  had  followed  him 
into  the  field,  or  it  was  the  bull.  As  he  raced,  he 
managed  to  throw  a  glance  over  his  shoulder  and 
saw  a  huge,  dark  mass  bearing  down  upon  him  at 
terrific  speed.  It  must  be  the  bull,  he  reflected  — 


Ill 


Tlie  Shock  35 


the  bull  grown  to  the  size  of  an  elephant.  And 
it  appeared  to  him  to  have  two  immense  black 
wings  that  flapped  at  its  sides  and  helped  it  forward, 
making  a  whirring  noise  like  the  arms  of  a  great 
windmill. 

This  sight  added  to  his  speed,  but  he  could  not 
last  very  much  longer.  Already  his  body  ached 
all  over,  and  the  frantic  effort  to  get  breath  nearly 
choked  him. 

There,  before  him,  not  so  very  far  away  now, 
was  the  swinging  gate.  If  only  he  could  get  there 
in  time  to  scramble  over  into  the  garden,  he  would 
be  safe.  It  seemed  almost  impossible,  and  behind 
him,  meanwhile,  the  sound  of  the  following  crea- 
ture came  closer  and  closer;  the  ground  seemed 
to  tremble;  he  could  almost  feel  the  breath  on 
his  neck. 

The  swinging  gate  was  only  twenty  yards  off; 
now  ten ;  now  only  five.  Now  he  had  reached  it  — 
at  last.  He  stretched  out  his  hands  to  seize  the  top 
bar,  and  in  another  moment  he  would  have  been 
safe  in  the  garden  and  within  easy  reach  of  the  house. 
But,  before  he  actually  touched  the  iron  rail,  a  sharp, 
stinging  pain  shot  across  his  back ;  —  he  drew  one 
final  breath  as  he  felt  himself  being  lifted,  lifted  up 
into  the  air.  The  horns  had  caught  him  just  behind 
the  shoulders ! 

There  seemed  to  be  no  pain  after  the  first  shock. 


36  Jimbo  CHAP. 

He  rose  high  into  the  air,  while  the  bushes  and 
spiked  railing  he  knew  so  well  sank  out  of  sight 
beneath  him,  dwindling  curiously  in  size.  At  first 
he  thought  his  head  must  bump  against  the  sky, 
but  suddenly  he  stopped  rising,  and  the  green  earth 
rushed  up  as  if  it  would  strike  him  in  the  face. 
This  meant  he  was  sinking  again.  The  gate  and 
railing  flew  by  underneath  him,  and  the  next  second 
he  fell  with  a  crash  upon  the  soft  grass  of  the  lawn 
—  upon  the  other  side.  He  had  been  tossed  over 
the  gate  into  the  garden,  and  the  bull  could  no 
longer  reach  him. 

Before  he  became  wholly  unconscious,  a  composite 
picture,  vivid  in  its  detail,  engraved  itself  deeply, 
with  exceeding  swiftness,  line  by  line,  upon  the 
waxen  tablets  of  his  mind.  In  this  picture  the 
thrush  that  had  flown  out  of  the  ivy,  the  Empty 
House  itself,  and  its  horrible,  pursuing  Inmate  were 
all  somehow  curiously  mingled  together  with  the 
black  wings  of  the  bull,  and  with  his  own  sensa- 
tion of  rushing  —  flying  headlong  —  through  space, 
as  he  rose  and  fell  in  a  curve  from  the  creature's 
horns. 

And  behind  it  he  was  conscious  that  the  real 
author  of  it  all  was  somewhere  in  the  shadowy 
background,  looking  on  as  though  to  watch  the 
result  of  her  unfortunate  mistake.  Miss  Lake, 
surely,  was  not  very  far  away.  He  associated  her 


Ill 


The  Shock  37 


with  the  horror  of  the  Empty  House  as  inevitably 
as  taste  and  smell  join  together  in  the  memory  of  a 
certain  food ;  and  the  very  last  thought  in  his  mind, 
as  he  sank  away  into  the  blackness  of  unconscious- 
ness, was  a  sort  of  bitter  surprise  that  the  governess 
had  not  turned  up  to  save  him  before  it  was  actually 
too  late. 

But  a  certain  sense  of  disappointment  mingled 
with  the  terror  of  the  shock;  for  he  was  dimly 
aware  that  Miss  Lake  had  not  acted  as  worthily  as 
she  might  have  done,  and  had  not  played  the  game 
as  well  as  she  might  have  done.  And,  somehow,  it 
didn't  all  seem  quite  fair. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ON  THE   EDGE 

JIMBO  had  fallen  on  his  head.  Inside  that  head  lay 
the  mass  of  highly  sensitive  matter  called  the  brain, 
on  which  were  recorded,  of  course,  the  impressions 
of  everything  that  had  yet  come  to  him  in  life.  A 
severe  shock,  such  as  he  had  just  sustained,  was 
bound  to  throw  these  impressions  into  confusion 
and  disorder,  jumbling  them  up  into  new  and 
strange  combinations,  obliterating  some,  and  exag- 
gerating others.  Jimbo  himself  was  helpless  in  the 
matter;  he  could  exercise  no  control  over  their 
antics  until  the  doctors  had  once  again  reduced  them 
to  order;  he  would  have  to  wander,  lost  and  lonely* 
through  the  comparative  chaos  of  disproportioned 
visions,  generally  known  as  the  region  of  delirium, 
until  the  doctor,  assisted  by  Mother  Nature,  restored 
him  once  more  to  normal  consciousness. 

For  a  time  everything  was  a  blank,  but  presently 
he  stirred  uneasily  in  the  grass,  and  the  pictures 
graven  on  the  tablets  of  his  mind  began  to  come 
back  to  him  line  by  line. 

Yet,  with  certain  changes :  the  bull,  for  instance, 
had  so  far  vanished  into  the  background  of  his 
thoughts  that  it  had  practically  disappeared  alto- 

38 


CHAP,  iv  On  the  Edge  39 

gether,  and  he  recalled  nothing  of  it  but  the  wings 
—  the  huge,  flapping  wings.  Of  the  creature  to 
whom  the  wings  belonged  he  had  no  recollection  be- 
yond that  it  was  very  large,  and  that  it  was  chasing 
him  from  the  Empty  House.  The  pain  in  his  shoul- 
ders had  also  gone;  but  what  remained  with  undi- 
minished  vividness  were  the  sensations  of  flight 
without  escape,  the  breathless  race  up  into  the 
sky,  and  the  swift,  tumbling  drop  again  through 
the  air  on  to  the  lawn. 

This  impression  of  rushing  through  space  —  short 
though  the  actual  distance  had  been  —  was  the 
dominating  memory.  All  else  was  apparently 
oblivion.  He  forgot  where  he  came  from,  and  he 
forgot  what  he  had  been  doing.  The  events  leading 
up  to  the  catastrophe,  indeed  everything  connected 
with  his  existence  previously  as  "  Master  James,"  had 
entirely  vanished;  and  the  slate  of  memory  had 
been  wiped  so  clean  that  he  had  forgotten  even  his 
own  name ! 

Jimbo  was  lying,  so  to  speak,  on  the  edge  of 
unconsciousness,  and  for  a  time  it  seemed  uncertain 
whether  he  would  cross  the  line  into  the  region  of 
delirium  and  dreams,  or  fall  back  again  into  his 
natural  world.  Terror,  assisted  by  the  horns  of  the 
black  bull,  had  tossed  him  into  the  borderland. 

His  last  scream,  however,  had  reached  the  ears 
of  the  ubiquitous  gardener,  and  help  was  near  at 


40  Jimbo  CHAP. 

hand.  He  heard  voices  that  seemed  to  come  from 
beyond  the  stars,  and  was  aware  that  shadowy 
forms  were  standing  over  him  and  talking  in 
whispers.  But  it  was  all  very  unreal;  one  minute 
the  voices  sounded  up  in  the  sky,  and  the  next  in 
his  very  ears,  while  the  figures  moved  about,  some- 
times bending  over  him,  sometimes  retreating  and 
melting  away  like  shadows  in  the  shifting  screen. 

Suddenly  a  blaze  of  light  flashed  upon  him,  and 
his  eyes  flew  open;  he  tumbled  back  for  a  moment 
into  his  normal  world.  He  wasn't  on  the  grass  at 
all,  but  was  lying  upon  his  own  bed  in  the  night 
nursery.  His  mother  was  bending  over  him  with  a 
very  white  face,  and  a  tall  man  dressed  in  black 
stood  beside  her,  holding  some  kind  of  shining 
instrument  in  his  fingers.  A  little  behind  them  he 
saw  Nixie,  shading  a  lamp  with  her  hand.  Then 
the  white  face  came  close  over  the  pillow,  and  a 
voice  full  of  tenderness  whispered,  — 

"My  darling  boy,  don't  you  know  me?  It's 
mother!  No  one  will  hurt  you.  Speak  to  me,  if 
you  can,  dear." 

She  stretched  out  her  hands,  and  Jimbo  knew 
her  and  made  an  effort  to  answer.  But  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  his  whole  body  had  suddenly  become  a 
solid  mass  of  iron,  and  he  could  not  move  any  part 
of  it ;  his  lips  and  his  hands  both  refused  to  move. 
Before  he  could  make  a  sign  that  he  had  understood 


iv  On  the  Edge  41 

and  was  trying  to  reply,  a  fierce  flame  rushed 
between  them  and  blinded  him,  his  eyes  closed, 
and  he  dropped  back  again  into  utter  darkness. 
The  walls  flew  asunder  and  the  ceiling  melted  into 
air,  while  the  bed  sank  away  beneath  him,  down, 
down,  down,  into  an  abyss  of  shadows.  The  lamp  in 
Nixie's  hands  dwindled  into  a  star,  and  his  mother's 
anxious  face  became  a  tiny  patch  of  white  in  the 
distance,  blurred  out  of  all  semblance  of  a  human 
countenance.  For  a  time  the  man  in  black  seemed 
to  hover  over  the  bed  as  it  sank,  as  though  he  were 
trying  to  follow  it  down,  but  it,  too,  presently  joined 
the  general  enveloping  blackness  and  lost  its  outline. 
The  pain  had  blotted  out  everything,  and  the  return 
to  consciousness  had  been  only  momentary. 

Not  all  the  doctors  in  the  world  could  have  made 
things  otherwise.  Jimbo  was  off  on  his  travels  at 
last  —  travels  in  which  the  chief  incidents  were 
directly  traceable  to  the  causes  and  details  of  his 
accident,  the  terror  of  the  Empty  House,  the  pur- 
suit of  its  Inmate,  the  pain  of  the  bull's  horns, 
and,  above  all,  the  flight  through  the  air. 

For  everything  in  his  adventures  found  its 
inspiration  in  the  events  described,  and  a  singular 
parallel  ran  ever  between  the  Jimbo  upon  the  bed  in 
the  night  nursery  and  the  other  emancipated  Jimbo 
wandering  in  the  regions  of  unconsciousness  and 
delirium. 


CHAPTER  V 

INTO   THE   EMPTY  HOUSE 

THE  darkness  lasted  a  long  time  without  a  break, 
and  when  it  lifted  all  recollection  of  the  bedroom 
scene  had  vanished. 

Jimbo  found  himself  back  again  on  the  grass. 
The  swinging  gate  was  just  in  front  of  him,  but  he 
did  not  recognise  it;  no  suggestion  of  " Express 
Trains"  came  back  to  him  as  his  eyes  rested  without 
remembrance  upon  the  bars  where  he  had  so  often 
swung,  in  defiance  of  orders,  with  his  brothers  and 
sisters.  Recollection  of  his  home,  family,  and  pre- 
vious life  he  had  absolutely  none;  or  at  least  it 
was  buried  so  deeply  in  his  inner  consciousness  that 
it  amounted  to  the  same  thing,  and  he  looked  out 
upon  the  garden,  the  gate,  and  the  field  beyond  as 
upon  an  entirely  new  piece  of  the  world. 

The  stars,  he  saw,  were  nearly  all  gone,  and  a 
very  faint  light  was  beginning  to  spread  from  the 
woods  beyond  the  field.  The  eastern  horizon  was 
slowly  brightening,  and  soon  the  night  would  be 
gone.  Jimbo  was  glad  of  this.  He  began  to  be 

42 


CHAP,  v  Into  the  Empty  House  43 

conscious  of  little  thrills  of  expectation,  for  with 
the  light  surely  help  would  also  come.  The  light 
always  brought  relief,  and  he  already  felt  that  strange 
excitement  that  comes  with  the  first  signs  of  dawn. 
In  the  distance  cocks  were  crowing,  horses  began 
to  stamp  in  the  barns  not  far  away,  and  a  hundred 
little  stirrings  of  life  ran  over  the  surface  of  the  earth 
as  the  light  crept  slowly  up  the  sky  and  dropped 
down  again  upon  the  world  with  its  message  of 
coming  day. 

Of  course  help  would  come  by  the  time  the  sun 
was  really  up,  and  it  was  partly  this  certainty,  and 
partly  because  he  was  a  little  too  dazed  to  realise 
the  seriousness  of  the  situation,  that  prevented  his 
giving  way  to  a  fit  of  fear  and  weeping.  Yet  a 
feeling  of  vague  terror  lay  only  a  little  way  below 
the  surface,  and  when,  a  few  moments  later,  he  saw 
that  he  was  no  longer  alone,  and  that  an  odd-looking 
figure  was  creeping  towards  him  from  the  shrubberies, 
he  sprang  to  his  feet,  prepared  to  run  unless  it  at 
once  showed  the  most  friendly  intentions. 

This  figure  seemed  to  have  come  from  nowhere. 
Apparently  it  had  risen  out  of  the  earth.  It  was 
too  large  to  have  been  concealed  by  the  low 
shrubberies;  yet  he  had  not  been  aware  of  its 
approach,  and  it  had  come  without  making  any 
noise.  Probably  it  was  friendly,  he  felt,  in  spite  of 
its  curious  shape  and  the  stealthy  way  it  had  come. 


44  Jimbo 


CHAP. 


At  least  he  hoped  so,  and  if  he  could  only  have  told 
whether  it  was  a  man  or  an  animal  he  would  easily 
have  made  up  his  mind.  But  the  uncertain  light, 
and  the  way  it  crouched  half  hidden  behind  the 
bushes,  prevented  this.  So  he  stood,  poised  ready 
to  run,  and  yet  waiting,  hoping,  indeed  expecting 
every  minute  a  sign  of  friendliness  and  help. 

In  this  way  the  two  faced  each  other  silently  for 
some  time,  until  the  feeling  of  terror  gradually  stole 
deeper  into  the  boy's  heart  and  began  to  rob  him  of 
full  power  over  his  muscles.  He  wondered  if  he 
would  be  able  to  run  when  the  time  came,  and 
whether  he  could  run  fast  enough.  This  was  how 
it  first  showed  itself,  this  suggestion  of  insidious 
fear.  Would  he  be  able  to  keep  up  the  start  he 
had?  Would  it  chase  him?  Would  it  run  like  a 
man,  or  like  an  animal  on  four  legs,  or  on  two? 
He  wished  he  could  see  more  clearly  what  it  was. 
He  still  stood  his  ground  pluckily,  facing  it  and 
waiting,  but  the  fear,  once  admitted  to  his  mind,  was 
gaining  strength,  and  he  began  to  feel  cold  and 
shivery.  Then  suddenly  the  tension  came  to  an 
end.  In  two  strides  the  figure  came  up  close  to  his 
side,  and  the  same  second  Jimbo  was  lifted  off  his 
feet  and  borne  swiftly  away  across  the  field. 

He  felt  quite  unable  to  offer  the  least  resistance, 
and  at  the  same  time  he  felt  a  sort  of  relief  that 
something  had  happened  at  last;  He  was  still  not 


v  Into  the  Empty  House  45 

sure  that  the  figure  was  unkind;  only  its  shape 
filled  him  with  a  feeling  that  was  certainly  the 
beginning  of  real  horror.  It  was  in  the  shape  of  a 
man,  he  thought,  but  of  a  very  large  and  ill-con- 
structed man;  for  it  certainly  had  moved  on  two 
legs  and  had  caught  him  up  in  a  pair  of  tremendously 
strong  arms.  But  there  was  something  else  it  had 
besides  arms,  for  a  kind  of  soft  cloak  hung  all  round 
it  and  wrapped  the  boy  from  head  to  foot,  preventing 
him  seeing  his  captor  properly,  and  at  the  same  time 
filling  his  body  with  a  kind  of  warm  drowsiness  that 
mitigated  his  active  fear  and  made  him  rather  like 
the  sensation  of  being  carried  along  so  easily  and  so 
fast. 

But  was  he  being  carried?  The  pace  they  were 
going  was  amazing,  and  he  moved  as  easily  as  a 
sailing  boat  and  with  the  same  swinging  motion. 
Could  it  be  some  animal  like  a  horse  after  all? 
Jimbo  tried  to  see  more,  but  found  it  impossible 
to  free  himself  from  the  folds  of  the  enveloping 
substance,  and  meanwhile  they  were  swinging  for- 
wards at  what  seemed  a  tremendous  pace  over  fields 
and  ditches,  through  hedges,  and  down  long  lanes. 

The  odours  of  earth,  and  dew-drenched  grass,  and 
opening  flowers  came  to  him.  He  heard  the  birds 
singing,  and  felt  the  cool  morning  air  sting  his 
cheeks  as  they  raced  along.  There  was  no  jolting 
or  jarring,  and  the  figure  seemed  to  cover  the  ground 


46  Jimbo  CHAP. 

as  lightly  as  though  it  hardly  touched  the  earth.  It 
was  certainly  not  a  dream,  he  was  sure  of  that; 
but  the  longer  they  went  on  the  drowsier  he  became, 
and  the  less  he  wondered  whether  the  figure  was 
going  to  help  him  or  to  do  something  dreadful  to 
him.  He  was  now  thoroughly  afraid,  and  yet, 
strange  contradiction,  he  didn't  care  a  bit.  Let  the 
figure  do  what  it  liked;  it  was  only  a  sort  of  night- 
mare person  after  all,  and  might  vanish  as  suddenly 
as  it  had  arrived. 

For  a  long  time  they  dashed  forward  at  this  great 
speed,  and  then  with  a  bump  and  a  crash  they 
stopped  suddenly  short,  and  Jimbo  felt  himself  let 
down  upon  the  solid  earth.  He  tried  to  free  himself 
at  once  from  the  folds  of  the  clinging  substance  that 
enveloped  him,  but,  before  he  could  do  so  and  see 
what  his  captor  was  really  like,  he  heard  a  door  slam 
and  felt  himself  pushed  along  what  seemed  to  be  the 
hallway  of  a  house.  His  eyes  were  clear  now  and 
he  could  see,  but  the  darkness  had  come  down  again 
so  thickly  that  all  he  could  discover  was  that  the 
figure  was  urging  him  along  the  floor  of  a  large 
empty  hall,  and  that  they  were  in  a  dark  and  empty 
building. 

Jimbo  tried  hard  to  see  his  captor,  but  the  figure, 
dim  enough  in  the  uncertain  light,  always  managed 
to  hide  its  face  and  keep  itself  bunched  up  in  such  a 
way  that  he  could  never  see  more  than  a  great,  dark 


v  Into  the  Empty  House  47 

mass  of  a  body,  from  which  long  legs  and  arms  shot 
out  like  telescopes,  draped  in  a  sort  of  clinging  cloak. 
Now  that  the  rapid  motion  through  the  air  had 
ceased,  the  boy's  drowsiness  passed  a  little,  and  he 
began  to  shiver  with  fear  and  to  feel  that  the  tears 
could  not  be  kept  back  much  longer. 

Probably  in  another  minute  he  would  have  started 
to  run  for  his  life,  when  a  new  sound  caught  his 
ears  and  made  him  listen  intently,  while  a  feeling  of 
wonder  and  delight  caught  his  heart,  and  made  him 
momentarily  forget  the  figure  pushing  him  forward 
from  behind. 

Was  it  the  wind  he  heard?  Or  was  it  the  voices 
of  children  all  singing  together  very  low?  It  was 
a  gentle,  sighing  sound  that  rose  and  fell  with 
mournful  modulations  and  seemed  to  come  from 
the  very  centre  of  the  building;  it  held,  too,  a 
strange,  far-away  murmur,  like  the  surge  of  a  faint 
breeze  moving  in  the  tree-tops.  It  might  be  the 
wind  playing  round  the  walls  of  the  building,  or  it 
might  be  children  singing  in  hushed  voices.  One 
minute  he  thought  it  was  outside  the  house,  and  the 
next  he  was  certain  it  came  from  somewhere  in  the 
upper  part  of  the  building.  He  glanced  up,  and 
fancied  for  one  moment  that  he  saw  in  the  darkness 
a  crowd  of  little  faces  peering  down  at  him  over  the 
banisters,  and  that  as  they  disappeared  he  heard  the 
sound  of  many  little  feet  moving,  and  then  a  door 


48  Jimbo  CHAP. 

hurriedly  closing.  But  a  push  from  the  figure 
behind  that  nearly  sent  him  sprawling  at  the  foot  of 
the  stairs  prevented  his  hearing  very  clearly,  and  the 
light  was  far  too  dim  to  let  him  feel  sure  of  what  he 
had  seen. 

They  passed  quickly  along  deserted  corridors  and 
through  winding  passages.  No  one  seemed  about. 
The  interior  of  the  house  was  chilly,  and  the  keen 
air  nipped.  After  going  up  several  flights  of  stairs 
they  stopped  at  last  in  front  of  a  door,  and  before 
Jimbo  had  a  moment  to  turn  and  dash  downstairs 
again  past  the  figure,  as  he  had  meant  to  do,  he  was 
pushed  violently  forward  into  a  room. 

The  door  slammed  after  him,  and  he  heard  the 
heavy  tread  of  the  figure  as  it  went  down  the  stair- 
case again  into  the  bottom  of  the  house.  Then  he 
saw  that  the  room  was  full  of  light  and  of  small 
moving  beings. 

Curiosity  and  astonishment  now  for  a  moment 
took  the  place  of  fear,  and  Jimbo,  with  a  thumping 
heart  and  clenched  fists,  stood  and  stared  at  the 
scene  before  him.  He  stiffened  his  little  legs  and 
leaned  against  the  wall  for  support,  but  he  felt  full 
of  fight  in  case  anything  happened,  and  with  wide- 
open  eyes  he  tried  to  take  in  the  whole  scene  at 
once  and  be  ready  for  whatever  might  come. 

But  there  seemed  no  immediate  cause  for  alarm, 
and  when  he  realised  that  the  beings  in  the  room 


v  Into  the  Empty  House  49 

were  apparently  children,  and  only  children,  his 
rather  mixed  sensations  of  astonishment  and  fear 
gave  place  to  an  emotion  of  overpowering  shyness. 
He  became  exceedingly  embarrassed,  for  he  was 
surrounded  by  children  of  all  ages  and  sizes,  star- 
ing at  him  just  as  hard  as  he  was  staring  at  them. 

The  children,  he  began  to  take  in,  were  all  dressed 
in  black;  they  looked  frightened  and  unhappy; 
their  bodies  were  thin  and  their  faces  very  white. 
There  was  something  else  about  them  he  could  not 
quite  name,  but  it  inspired  him  with  the  same  sense 
of  horror  that  he  had  felt  in  the  arms  of  the  figure 
who  had  trapped  him.  For  he  now  realised  definitely 
that  he  had  been  trapped;  and  he  also  began  to 
realise  for  the  first  time  that  though  he  still  had  the 
body  of  a  little  boy  his  way  of  thinking  and  judging 
was  sometimes  more  like  that  of  a  grown-up  person. 
The  two  alternated,  and  the  result  was  an  odd  con- 
fusion; for  sometimes  he  felt  like  a  child  and 
thought  like  a  man,  while  at  others  he  felt  like  a 
man  and  thought  like  a  child.  Something  had  gone 
wrong,  very  much  wrong;  and,  as  he  watched  this 
group  of  silent  children  facing  him,  he  knew  sud- 
denly that  what  was  just  beginning  to  happen  to 
him  had  happened  to  them  long,  long  ago. 

For  they  looked  as  if  they  had  been  a  long,  long 
time  in  the  world,  but  their  bodies  had  not  kept 
pace  with  their  minds.  Something  had  happened  to 


50  Jimbo  CHAP. 

stop  the  growth  of  the  body,  while  allowing  the 
mind  to  go  on  developing.  The  bodies  were  not 
stunted  or  deformed;  they  were  well-formed,  nice 
little  children's  bodies,  but  the  minds  within  them 
were  grown  up,  and  the  incongruity  was  distressing. 
All  this  he  suddenly  realised  in  a  flash,  intuitively, 
just  as  though  it  had  been  most  elaborately  explained 
to  him;  yet  he  could  not  have  put  the  least  part  of 
it  into  words  or  have  explained  what  he  saw  and  felt 
to  another. 

He  saw  that  they  had  the  hands  and  figures  of 
children,  the  heads  of  children,  the  unlined  faces  and 
smooth  foreheads  of  children,  but  their  gestures, 
and  something  in  their  movements,  belonged  to 
grown-up  people,  and  the  expression  of  their  eyes  in 
meaning  and  intelligence  was  the  expression  of  old 
people  and  not  of  children.  And  the  expression  in 
the  eyes  of  every  one  of  them  he  saw  was  the 
expression  of  terror  and  of  pain.  The  effect  was  so 
singular  that  he  seemed  face  to  face  with  an  entirely 
new  order  of  creatures:  a  child's  features  with  a 
man's  eyes;  a  child's  figure  with  a  woman's  move- 
ments; full-grown  souls  cramped  and  cribbed  in 
absurdly  inadequate  bodies  and  little,  puny  frames; 
the  old  trying  uncouthly  to  express  itself  in  the  young. 

The  grown-up,  old  portion  of  him  had  been 
uppermost  as  he  stared  and  received  these  impres- 
sions, but  now  suddenly  it  passed  away,  and  he  felt 


v  Into  the  Empty  House  51 

as  a  little  boy  again.  He  glanced  quickly  down  at 
his  own  little  body  in  the  alpaca  knickerbockers 
and  sailor  blouse,  and  then,  with  a  sigh  of  relief, 
looked  up  again  at  the  strange  group  facing  him. 
So  far,  at  any  rate,  he  had  not  changed,  and  there 
was  nothing  yet  to  suggest  that  he  was  becoming 
like  them  in  appearance  at  least. 

With  his  back  against  the  door  he  faced  the 
roomful  of  children  who  stood  there  motionless  and 
staring;  and  as  he  looked,  wild  feelings  rushed  over 
him  and  made  him  tremble.  Who  was  he  ?  Where 
had  he  come  from?  Where  in  the  world  had  he 
spent  the  other  years  of  his  life,  the  forgotten  years  ? 
There  seemed  to  be  no  one  to  whom  he  could  go 
for  comfort,  no  one  to  answer  questions;  and  there 
was  such  a  lot  he  wanted  to  ask.  He  seemed  to  be 
so  much  older,  and  to  know  so  much  more  than  he 
ought  to  have  known,  and  yet  to  have  forgotten  so 
much  that  he  ought  not  to  have  forgotten. 

His  loss  of  ^memory,  however,  was  of  course 
only  partial.  He  had  forgotten  his  own  identity, 
and  all  the  people  with  whom  he  had  so  far  in  life 
had  to  do;  yet  at  the  same  time  he  was  dimly 
conscious  that  he  had  just  left  all  these  people,  and 
that  some  day  he  would  find  them  again.  It  was 
only  the  surface  layers  of  memory  that  had  van- 
ished, and  these  had  not  vanished  for  ever,  but  only 
sunk  down  a  little  below  the  horizon. 


52  Jimbo  CHAP. 

Then,  presently,  the  children  began  to  range 
themselves  in  rows  between  him  and  the  opposite 
wall,  without  once  taking  their  horrible,  intelligent 
eyes  off  him  as  they  moved.  He  watched  them 
with  growing  dread,  but  at  last  his  curiosity  became 
so  strong  that  it  overcame  everything  else,  and  in  a 
voice  that  he  meant  to  be  very  brave,  but  that 
sounded  hardly  above  a  whisper,  he  said : 

"Who  are  you?  And  what's  been  done  to 
you?" 

The  answer  came  at  once  in  a  whisper  as  low 
as  his  own,  though  he  could  not  distinguish  who 
spoke : 

"Listen  and  you  shall  know.  You,  too,  are  now 
one  of  us." 

Immediately  the  children  began  a  slow,  impish 
sort  of  dance  before  him,  moving  with  almost  silent 
feet  over  the  boards,  yet  with  a  sedateness  and 
formality  that  had  none  of  the  unconscious  grace 
of  children.  And,  as  they  danced,  they  sang,  but  in 
voices  so  low  that  it  was  more  like  the  mournful 
sighing  of  wind  among  branches  than  human  voices. 
It  was  the  sound  he  had  already  heard  outside  the 
building. 

We  are  the  children  of  the  whispering  night, 
We  live  eternally  in  dreadful  fright 
Of  stories  told  us  in  the  grey  twilight 

By — nurserymaids  t 


v  Into  the  Empty  House  53 

We  are  the  children  of  a  winter's  day; 
Under  our  breath  we  chant  this  mournful  lay; 
We  dance  with  phantoms  and  with  shadows  play, 
And  have  no  rest. 

We  have  no  joy  in  any  children's  game, 
For  happiness  to  us  is  but  a  name 
Since  Terror  kissed  us  with  his  lips  of  flame 
In  wicked  jest. 

We  hear  the  little  voices  in  the  wind 
Singing  of  freedom  we  may  never  find, 
Victims  of  fate  so  cruelly  unkind, 

We  are  unblest. 

We  hear  the  little  footsteps  in  the  rain 
Running  to  help  us,  though  they  run  in  vain, 
Tapping  in  hundreds  on  the  window-pane 
In  vain  behest. 

We  are  the  children  of  the  whispering  night, 
Who  dwell  unrescued  in  eternal  fright 
Of  stories  told  us  in  the  dim  twilight 

By  —  nurserymaids  I 

The  song  and  the  plaintive  dance  ceased  together, 
and  before  Jimbo  could  find  any  words  to'  clothe 
even  one  of  the  thoughts  that  crowded  through  his 
mind,  he  saw  them  moving  towards  a  door  he  had 
not  hitherto  noticed  on  the  other  side  of  the  room. 
A  moment  later  they  had  opened  it  and  passed  out, 
sedate,  mournful,  unhurried;  and  the  boy  found 


54  Jimbo 


CHAP. 


that  in  some  way  he  could  not  understand  the  light 
had  gone  with  them,  and  he  was  standing  with  his 
back  against  the  wall  in  almost  total  darkness. 

Once  out  of  the  room,  no  sound  followed  them, 
and  he  crossed  over  and  tried  the  handle  of  the  door. 
It  was  locked.  Then  he  went  back  and  tried  the 
other  door;  that,  too,  was  locked.  He  was  shut  in. 
There  was  no  longer  any  doubt  as  to  the  figure's 
intentions;  he  was  a  prisoner,  trapped  like  an  animal 
in  a  cage. 

The  only  thought  in  his  mind  just  then  was  an 
intense  desire  for  freedom.  Whatever  happened  he 
must  escape.  He  crossed  the  floor  to  the  only 
window  in  the  room;  it  was  without  blinds,  and  he 
looked  out.  But  instantly  he  recoiled  with  a  fresh 
and  overpowering  sense  of  helplessness,  for  it  was 
three  storeys  from  the  ground,  and  down  below  in 
the  shadows  he  saw  a  paved  courtyard  that  rendered 
jumping  utterly  out  of  the  question. 

He  stood  for  a  long  time,  fighting  down  the  tears, 
and  staring  as  if  his  heart  would  break  at  the  field 
and  trees  beyond.  A  high  wall  enclosed  the  yard, 
but  beyond  that  was  freedom  and  open  space.  Feel- 
ings of  loneliness  and  helplessness,  terror  and  dismay 
overwhelmed  him.  His  eyes  burned  and  smarted, 
yet,  strange  to  say,  the  tears  now  refused  to  come 
and  bring  him  relief.  He  could  only  stand  there 
with  his  elbows  on  the  window-sill,  and  watch  the 


v  Into  the  Empty  House  55 

outline  of  the  trees  and  hedges  grow  clearer  and 
clearer  as  the  light  grew  across  the  sky,  and  the 
moment  of  sunrise  came  close. 

But  when  at  last  he  turned  back  into  the  room, 
he  saw  that  he  was  no  longer  alone.  Crouching 
against  the  opposite  wall  there  was  a  hooded  figure 
steadily  watching  him. 


CHAPTER  VI 

HIS   PRISON   FRIEND 

SHOCKS  of  terror,  as  they  increase  in  number, 
apparently  lessen  in  effect;  the  repeated  calls  made 
upon  Jimbo's  soul  by  the  emotions  of  fear  and 
astonishment  had  numbed  it;  otherwise  the  know- 
ledge that  he  was  locked  in  the  room  with  this 
mysterious  creature  beyond  all  possibility  of  escape 
must  have  frightened  him,  as  the  saying  is,  out  of 
his  skin. 

As  it  was,  however,  he  kept  his  head  in  a 
wonderful  manner,  and  simply  stared  at  the  silent 
intruder  as  hard  as  ever  he  could  stare.  How  in 
the  world  it  got  in  was  the  principal  thought  in  his 
mind,  and  after  that,  what  in  the  world  was  it? 

The  dawn  must  have  come  very  swiftly,  or  else 
he  had  been  staring  longer  than  he  knew,  for  just 
then  the  sun  topped  the  edge  of  the  world  and  the 
window-sill  simultaneously,  and  sent  a  welcome  ray 
of  sunshine  into  the  dingy  room.  It  turned  the 
grey  light  to  silver,  and  fell  full  upon  the  huddled 
figure  crouching  against  the  opposite  wall.  Jimbo 
caught  his  breath,  and  stared  harder  than  ever. 

56 


CHAP,  vi  His  Prison  Friend  57 

It  was  a  human  figure,  the  figure,  apparently,  of 
a  man,  sitting  crumpled  up  in  a  very  uncomfortable 
sort  of  position  on  his  haunches.  It  sat  perfectly 
still.  A  black  cloak,  with  loose  sleeves,  and  a  cowl 
or  hood  that  completely  concealed  the  face,  covered 
it  from  head  to  foot.  The  material  of  the  cloak 
could  not  have  been  very  thick,  for  inside  the  hood 
he  caught  the  gleam  of  eyes  as  they  roamed  about 
the  room  and  followed  his  movements.  But  for 
this  glitter  of  the  moving  eyes  it  might  have  been  a 
figure  carved  in  wood.  Was  it  going  to  sit  there 
for  ever  watching  him?  At  first  he  was  afraid  it 
was  going  to  speak;  then  he  was  afraid  it  wasn't. 
It  might  rise  suddenly  and  come  towards  him ;  yet 
the  thought  that  it  would  not  move  at  all  was  worse 
still. 

In  this  way  the  two  faced  each  other  for  several 
minutes  until,  just  as  the  position  was  becoming 
simply  unbearable,  a  low  whisper  ran  round  the 
room:  "At  last!  Oh!  I've  found  him  at  last!" 
Jimbo  was  not  quite  sure  of  the  words,  though  it 
was  certainly  a  human  voice  that  had  spoken;  but, 
the  suspense  once  broken,  the  boy  could  not  stand 
it  any  longer,  and  with  a  rush  of  desperate  courage 
he  found  his  voice  —  a  very  husky  one  —  and  moved 
a  step  forward. 

" Who  are  you,  please,  and  how  did  you  get  in?" 
he  ventured  with  a  great  effort. 


58  Jimbo  CHAP- 

Then  he  fell  back  against  the  wall,  amazed  at  his 
own  daring,  and  waited  with  tightly  clenched  fists 
for  an  answer.  But  he  had  not  to  wait  very  long, 
for  almost  immediately  the  figure  rose  awkwardly 
to  its  feet,  and  came  over  to  where  he  stood.  Its 
manner  of  moving  may  best  be  described  as  shuf- 
fling ;  and  it  stretched  in  front  of  it  a  long  cloaked 
arm,  on  which  the  sleeve  hung,  he  thought,  like 
clothes  on  a  washing  line. 

He  breathed  hard,  and  waited.  Like  many  other 
people  with  strong  wills  and  sensitive  nerves,  Jimbo 
was  both  brave  and  a  coward:  he  hoped  nothing 
horrid  was  going  to  happen,  but  he  was  quite  ready 
if  it  should.  Yet,  now  that  the  actual  moment  had 
come,  he  had  no  particular  fear,  and  when  he  felt 
the  touch  of  the  hand  on  his  shoulder,  the  words 
sprang  naturally  to  his  lips  with  a  little  trembling 
laugh,  more  of  wonder  perhaps  than  anything 
else. 

"You  do  look  a  horrid  .  .  .  BRUTE/'  he  was 
going  to  say,  but  at  the  last  moment  he  changed  it 
to  "thing,"  for,  with  the  true  intuition  of  a  child,  he 
recognised  that  the  creature  inside  the  cloak  was  a 
kind  creature  and  well  disposed  towards  him.  "  But 
how  did  you  get  in?"  he  added,  looking  up  bravely 
into  the  black  visage,  "because  the  doors  are  both 
locked  on  the  outside,  and  I  couldn't  get  out." 

By  way  of  reply  the  figure  shuffled  to  one  side, 


vi  His  Prison  Friend  59 

and,  taking  the  hand  from  his  shoulder,  pointed 
silently  to  a  trap-door  in  the  floor  behind  him.  As 
he  looked,  he  saw  it  was  being  shut  down  stealthily 
by  someone  beneath. 

"Hush!"  whispered  the  figure,  almost  inaudibly. 
"He's  watching!" 

"Who's  watching?"  Jimbo  cried,  curiosity  taking 
the  place  of  every  other  emotion.  "I  want  to  see." 
He  ran  forward  to  the  spot  where  the  trap-door 
now  lay  flush  with  the  floor,  but,  before  he  had 
gone  two  steps,  the  black  arms  shot  out  and  caught 
him.  He  turned,  struggling,  and  in  the  scuffle  that 
followed  the  cloak  shrouding  the  figure  became  dis- 
arranged; the  hood  dropped  from  the  face,  and  he 
found  himself  looking  straight  into  the  eyes,  not  of 
a  man,  but  of  a  woman ! 

"It's  you!"  he  cried.     "YOU  —  !" 

A  shock  ran  right  through  his  body  from  his 
head  to  his  feet,  like  a  current  of  electricity,  and 
he  caught  his  breath  as  though  he  had  been  struck. 
For  one  brief  instant  the  sinister  face  of  someone 
who  had  terrified  him  in  the  past  came  back  vividly 
to  his  mind,  and  he  shrank  away  in  terror.  But  it 
was  only  for  an  instant,  the  twentieth  part  of  an 
instant.  Immediately,  before  he  could  even  re- 
member the  name,  recognition  passed  into  darkness 
and  his  memory  shut  down  with  a  snap.  He  was 
staring  in  the  face  of  an  utter  stranger,  about  whom 


60  Jimbo  CHAP. 

he  knew  nothing  and  had  no  feelings  particularly 
one  way  or  another. 

"I  thought  I  knew  you,"  he  gasped,  "but  I've 
forgotten  you  again  —  and  I  thought  you  were  going 
to  be  a  man,  too." 

"Jimbo!"  cried  the  other,  and  in  her  voice  was 
such  unmistakable  tenderness  and  yearning  that  the 
boy  knew  at  once  beyond  doubt  that  she  was  his 
friend.  "Jimbo!" 

She  knelt  down  on  the  floor  beside  him,  so  that 
her  face  was  on  a  level  with  his,  and  then  opened 
both  her  arms  to  him.  But  though  Jimbo  was  glad 
to  have  found  a  friend  who  was  going  to  help  him, 
he  felt  no  particular  desire  to  be  embraced,  and  he 
stood  obstinately  where  he  was  with  his  back  to  the 
window. 

The  morning  sunshine  fell  upon  her  features  and 
touched  the  thick  coils  of  her  hair  with  glory.  It 
was  not,  strictly  speaking,  a  pretty  face,  but  the  look 
of  real  human  tenderness  there  was  very  expressive 
and  comforting,  and  in  the  kind  brown  eyes  there 
shone  a  strange  light  that  was  not  merely  the  reflec- 
tion of  the  sunlight.  Jimbo  felt  his  heart  warm  to 
her  as  he  looked,  but  her  expression  puzzled  him, 
and  he  would  not  accept  the  invitation  of  her  arms. 

"Won't  you  come  to  me?"  she  said,  her  arms 
still  outstretched. 

"I  want  to  know  who  you  are,  and  what  I'm  do- 


\n  His  Prison  Friend  61 

ing  here/' he  said.  "I  feel  so  funny  —  so  old  and 
so  young  —  and  all  mixed  up.  I  can't  make  out 
who  I  am  a  bit.  What's  that  funny  name  you  call 
me?" 

"Jimbo  is  your  name,"  she  said  softly. 

"Then  what's  your  name?"  he  asked  quickly. 

"My  name,"  she  repeated  slowly  after  a  pause, 
"is  not  —  as  nice  as  yours.  Besides,  you  need  not 
know  my  name  —  you  might  dislike  it." 

"But  I  must  have  something  to  call  you,"  he 
persisted. 

"But  if  I  told  you,  and  you  disliked  the  name, 
you  might  dislike  me,  too,"  she  said,  still  hesitating. 

Jimbo  saw  the  expression  of  sadness  in  her  eyes, 
and  it  won  his  confidence,  though  he  hardly  knew 
why.  He  came  up  closer  to  her  and  put  his  puzzled 
little  face  next  to  hers. 

"I  like  you  very  much  already,"  he  whispered, 
"  and  if  your  name  is  a  horrid  one  I'll  change  it  for 
you  at  once.  Please  tell  me  what  it  is." 

She  drew  the  boy  to  her  and  gave  him  a  little 
hug,  and  he  did  not  resist.  For  a  long  time  she 
did  not  answer.  He  felt  vaguely  that  something  of 
dreadful  importance  hung  about  this  revelation  of 
her  name.  He  repeated  his  question,  and  at  length 
she  replied,  speaking  in  a  very  low  voice,  and  with 
her  eyes  fixed  intently  upon  his  face. 

"My  name,"  she  said,  "is  Ethel  Lake." 


62  Jimbo 


CHAP. 


"  Ethel  Lake/'  he  repeated  after  her.  The  words 
sounded  somehow  familiar  to  him;  surely  he  had 
heard  that  name  before.  Were  not  the  words 
associated  with  something  in  his  past  that  had  been 
unpleasant  ?  A  curious  sinking  sensation  came  over 
him  as  he  heard  them. 

His  companion  watched  him  intently  while  he 
repeated  the  words  over  to  himself  several  times, 
as  if  to  make  sure  he  had  got  them  right.  There 
was  a  moment's  hesitation  as  he  slowly  went  over 
them  once  again.  Then  he  turned  to  her,  laughing. 

"I  like  your  name,  Ethel  Lake,"  he  said.  "It's  a 

nice  name  —  Miss  —  Miss "  Again  he  hesitated, 

while  a  little  warning  tremor  ran  through  his  mind, 
and  he  wondered  for  an  instant  why  he  said  "Miss." 
But  it  passed  as  suddenly  as  it  had  come,  and  he 
finished  the  sentence  —  "  Miss  Lake,  I  shall  call  you." 
He  stared  into  her  eyes  as  he  said  it. 

"Then  you  don't  remember  me  at  all?"  she  cried, 
with  a  sigh  of  intense  relief.  "You've  quite  for- 
gotten?" 

"I  never  saw  you  before,  did  I?  How  can  I 
remember  you?  I  don't  remember  any  of  the 
things  I've  forgotten.  Are  you  one  of  them?" 

For  reply  she  caught  him  to  her  breast  and 
kissed  him.  "You  precious  little  boy!"  she  said. 
"I'm  so  glad,  oh,  so  glad!" 

"But  do  you  remember  me?"  he  asked,  sorely 


vi  His  Prison  Friend  63 

puzzled.  "Who  am  I?  Haven't  I  been  born  yet, 
or  something  funny  like  that?" 

"If  you  don't  remember  me"  said  the  other,  her 
face  happy  with  smiles  that  had  evidently  come  only 
just  in  time  to  prevent  tears,  "  there's  not  much  good 
telling  you  who  you  are.  But  your  name,  if  you 

really  want  to  know,  is "  She  hesitated  a 

moment. 

"  Be  quick,  Eth  —  Miss  Lake,  or  you'll  forget  it 
again." 

She  laughed  rather  bitterly.  "  Oh,  I  never  forget. 
I  can't!"  she  said.  "I  wish  I  could.  Your  name 
is  James  Stone,  and  Jimbo  is  'short'  for  James. 
Now  you  know." 

She  might  just  as  well  have  said  Bill  Sykes  for 
all  the  boy  knew  or  remembered. 

"What  a  silly  name!"  he  laughed.  "But  it 
can't  be  my  real  name,  or  I  should  know  it.  I 
never  heard  it  before."  After  a  moment  he  added : 
"Am  I  an  old  man?  I  feel  just  like  one.  I 
suppose  I'm  grown  up  —  grown  up  so  fast  that  I've 
forgotten  what  came  before " 

"You're  not  grown  up,  dear,  at  least  not  exactly 
"  She  glanced  down  at  his  alpaca  knickerbockers 


and  brown  stockings;  and  as  he  followed  her  eyes 
and  saw  the  dirty  buttoned  boots  there  came  into  his 
mind  some  dim  memory  of  where  he  had  last  put 
them  on,  and  of  someone  who  had  helped  him. 


64  Jimbo  CHAP. 

But  it  ail  passed  like  a  swift  meteor  across  the  dark 
night  of  his  forgetfulness  and  was  lost  in  mist. 

"You  mustn't  judge  by  these  silly  clothes,"  he 
laughed.  "  I  shall  change  them  as  soon  as  I  get  — 

as  soon  as  I  can  find "  He  stopped  short.  No 

words  came.  A  feeling  of  utter  loneliness  and 
despair  swept  suddenly  over  him  drenching  him 
from  head  to  foot.  He  felt  lost  and  friendless, 
naked,  homeless,  cold.  He  was  ever  on  the  brink 
of  regaining  a  quantity  of  knowledge  and  experience 
that  he  had  known  once  long  ago,  ever  so  long  ago, 
but  it  was  always  just  out  of  his  reach.  He  glanced 
at  Miss  Lake,  feeling  that  she  was  his  only  possible 
comfort  in  a  terrible  situation.  She  met  his  look 
and  drew  him  tenderly  towards  her. 

"Now  listen  to  me/'  she  said  gently;  "I've some- 
thing to  tell  you  —  about  myself." 

He  was  all  attention  in  a  minute. 

"I  am  a  discharged  governess,"  she  began,  holding 
her  breath  when  once  the  words  were  out. 

"Discharged!"  he  repeated  vaguely.  "What's 
that?  What  for?" 

"For  frightening  a  child.  I  told  a  little  boy  awful 
stories  that  weren't  true.  They  terrified  him  so 
much  that  I  was  sent  away.  That's  why  I'm  here 
now.  It's  my  punishment.  I  am  a  prisoner  here 
until  I  can  find  him  —  and  help  him  to  escape " 

"Oh,  I  say!"  he  exclaimed  quickly,  as  though 


vi  His  Prison  Friend  65 

remembering  something.  But  it  passed,  and  he. 
looked  up  at  her  half  bored,  half  politely.  "  Escape 
from  what?"  he  asked. 

"From  here.  This  is  the  Empty  House  I  told 
the  stories  about;  and  you  are  the  little  boy  I  fright- 
ened. Now,  at  last,  I've  found  you,  and  am  going 
to  save  you."  She  paused,  watching  him  with  eyes 
that  never  left  his  face  for  an  instant. 

Jimbo  was  delighted  to  hear  he  was  going  to  be 
rescued,  but  he  felt  no  interest  at  all  in  her  story  of 
having  frightened  a  little  boy,  who  was  himself.  He 
thought  it  was  very  nice  of  her  to  take  so  much 
trouble,  and  he  told  her  so,  and  when  he  went  up 
and  kissed  her  and  thanked  her,  he  saw  to  his 
surprise  that  she  was  crying.  For  the  life  of  him 
he  could  not  understand  why  a  discharged  governess, 
whom  he  met,  apparently,  for  the  first  time  in  the 
Empty  House,  should  weep  over  him  and  show  him 
so  much  affection.  But  he  could  think  of  nothing 
to  say,  so  he  just  waited  till  she  had  finished. 

"  You  see,  if  I  can  save  you,"  she  said  between  her 
sobs,  "it  will  be  all  right  again,  and  I  shall  be 
forgiven,  and  shall  be  able  to  escape  with  you.  I 
want  you  to  escape,  so  that  you  can  get  back  to  life 
again." 

"Oh,  then  I'm  dead,  am  I?" 

"Not  exactly  dead,"  she  said,  drying  her  eyes 
with  the  corner  of  her  black  hood.  "You've  had  a 


66  Jimbo  CHAP. 

funny  accident,  you  know.  If  your  body  gets  all 
right,  so  that  you  can  go  back  and  live  in  it  again, 
then  you're  not  dead.  But  if  it's  so  badly  injured 
that  you  can't  work  in  it  any  more,  then  you  are 
dead,  and  will  have  to  stay  dead.  You're  still 
joined  to  the  body  in  a  fashion,  you  see.JJ 

He  stared  and  listened,  not  understanding  much. 
It  all  bored  him.  She  talked  without  explaining, 
he  thought.  An  immense  sponge  had  passed  over 
the  slate  of  the  past  and  wiped  it  clean  beyond 
recall.  He  was  utterly  perplexed. 

"How  funny  you  are!"  he  said  vaguely,  thinking 
more  of  her  tears  than  her  explanations. 

"  Water  won't  stay  in  a  cracked  bottle,"  she  went 
on,  "and  you  can't  stay  in  a  broken  body.  But 
they're  trying  to  mend  it  now,  and  if  we  can  escape 
in  time  you  can  be  an  ordinary,  happy  little  boy 
in  the  world  again." 

"Then  are  you  dead,  too?"  he  asked,  "or  nearly 
dead?" 

"I  am  out  of  my  body,  like  you,"  she  answered 
evasively,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

He  was  still  looking  at  her  in  a  dazed  sort  of  way, 
when  she  suddenly  sprang  to  her  feet  and  let  the 
hood  drop  back  over  her  face. 

"Hush!"  she  whispered.     "He's  listening  again." 

At  the  same  moment  a  sound  came  from  beneath 
the  floor  on  the  other  side  of  the  room,  and  Jimbo 


vr  His  Prison  Friend  67 

saw  the  trap-door  being  slowly  raised  above  the 
level  of  the  floor. 

"Your  number  is  102,"  said  a  voice  that  sounded 
like  the  rushing  of  a  river. 

Instantly  the  trap-door  dropped  again,  and  he 
heard  heavy  steps  rumbling  away  into  the  interior  of 
the  house.  He  looked  at  his  companion  and  saw 
her  terrified  face  as  she  lifted  her  hood. 

"He  always  blunders  along  like  that,"  she 
whispered,  bending  her  head  on  one  side  to  listen. 
"He  can't  see  properly  in  the  daylight.  He  hates 
sunshine,  and  usually  only  goes  out  after  dark." 
She  was  white  and  trembling. 

"Is  that  the  person  who  brought  me  in  here  this 
morning  at  such  a  frightful  pace?"  he  asked, 
bewildered. 

She  nodded.  "He  wanted  to  get  in  before  it  was 
light,  so  that  you  couldn't  see  his  face." 

"Is  he  such  a  fright?"  asked  the  boy,  beginning 
to  share  her  evident  feeling  of  horror. 

"He  is  Fright!"  she  said  in  an  awed  whisper. 
"  But  never  talk  about  him  again  unless  you  can't  help 
it;  he  always  knows  when  he's  being  talked  about, 
and  he  likes  it  because  it  gives  him  more  power." 

Jimbo  only  stared  at  her  without  comprehending. 
Then  his  mind  jumped  to  something  else  he  wanted 
badly  to  have  explained,  and  he  asked  her  about  his 
number,  and  why  he  was  called  No.  102. 


68  Jimbo  CHAP. 

"Oh,  that's  easier,"  she  said;  "  102  is  your  number 
among  the  frightened  children ;  there  are  101  of  them, 
and  you  are  the  last  arrival.  Haven't  you  seen 
them  yet?  It  is  also  the  temperature  of  your 
broken  little  body  lying  on  the  bed  in  the  night 
nursery  at  home/'  she  added,  though  he  hardly 
caught  her  words,  so  low  were  they  spoken. 

Jimbo  then  described  how  the  children  had  sung 
and  danced  to  him,  and  went  on  to  ask  a  hundred 
questions  about  them.  But  Miss  Lake  would  give 
him  very  little  information,  and  said  he  would  not 
have  very  much  to  do  with  them.  Most  of  them  had 
been  in  the  house  for  years  and  years  —  so  long  that 
they  could  probably  never  escape  at  all. 

"They  are  all  frightened  children,"  she  said. 
"Little  ones  scared  out  of  their  wits  by  silly  peo- 
ple who  meant  to  amuse  them  with  stories,  or  to 
frighten  them  into  being  well  behaved  —  nursery- 
maids, elder  sisters,  and  even  governesses!" 

"And  can  they  never  escape?" 

"Not  unless  the  people  who  frightened  them  come 
to  their  rescue  and  run  the  risk  of  being  caught  them- 
selves" 

As  she  spoke  there  rose  from  the  depths  of  the 
house  the  sound  of  muffled  voices,  children's  voices 
singing  faintly  together;  it  rose  and  fell  exactly  like 
the  wind,  and  with  as  little  tune;  it  was  weird  and 
magical,  but  so  utterly  mournful  that  the  boy  felt  the 


VI 


His  Prison  Friend  69 


tears  start  to  his  eyes.  It  drifted  away,  too,  just  as 
the  wind  does  over  the  tops  of  the  trees,  dying  into 
the  distance;  and  all  became  still  again. 

."It's  just  like  the  wind,"  he  said,  "and  I  do  love 
the  wind.  It  makes  me  feel  so  sad  and  so  happy. 
Why  is  it?" 

The  governess  did  not  answer. 

"How  old  am  I  really?"  he  went  on.  "How  can 
I  be  so  old  and  so  ignorant?  I've  forgotten  such 
an  awful  lot  of  knowledge." 

"The  fact  is  —  well,  perhaps  you  won't  quite 
understand  —  but  you're  really  two  ages  at  once. 
Sometimes  you  feel  as  old  as  your  body,  and  some- 
times as  old  as  your  soul.  You're  still  connected 
with  your  body;  so  you  get  the  sensations  of  both 
mixed  up." 

"Then  is  the  body  younger  than  the  soul?" 

"The  soul  —  that  is  yourself,"  she  answered,  "is, 
oh,  so  old,  awfully  old,  as  old  as  the  stars,  and  older. 
But  the  body  is  no  older  than  itself  —  of  course,  how 
could  it  be?" 

"Of  course,"  repeated  the  boy,  who  was  not 
listening  to  a  word  she  said.  "How  could  it  be?" 

"But  it  doesn't  matter  how  old  you  are  or  how 
young  you  feel,  as  long  as  you  don't  hate  me  for 
having  frightened  you,"  she  said  after  a  pause. 
"That's  the  chief  thing." 

He  was  very,  very  puzzled.    He  could  not  help 


70  Jimbo  CHAP. 

feeling  it  had  been  rather  unkind  of  her  to  frighten 
him  so  badly  that  he  had  literally  been  frightened 
out  of  his  skin;  but  he  couldn't  remember  anything 
about  it,  and  she  was  taking  so  much  trouble  to 
save  him  now  that  he  quite  forgave  her.  He  nestled 
up  against  her,  and  said  of  course  he  liked  her,  and 
she  stroked  his  curly  head  and  mumbled  a  lot  of 
things  to  herself  that  he  couldn't  understand  a  bit. 

But  in  spite  of  his  new-found  friend  the  feeling 
of  overmastering  loneliness  would  suddenly  rush 
over  him.  She  might  be  a  protector,  but  she  was 
not  a  real  companion;  and  he  knew  that  somewhere 
or  other  he  had  left  a  lot  of  other  real  companions 
whom  he  now  missed  dreadfully.  He  longed  more 
than  he  could  say  for  freedom;  he  wanted  to  be  able 
to  come  and  go  as  he  pleased;  to  play  about  in  a 
garden  somewhere  as  of  old;  to  wander  over  soft 
green  lawns  among  laburnums  and  sweet-smelling 
lilac  trees,  and  to  be  up  to  all  his  old  tricks  and 
mischief  —  though  he  could  not  remember  in  detail 
what  they  were. 

In  a  word  he  wanted  to  escape;  his  whole  being 
yearned  to  escape  and  be  free  again;  yet  here  he 
was  a  wretched  prisoner  in  a  room  like  a  prison-cell, 
with  a  sort  of  monster  for  a  keeper,  and  a  troop  of 
horrible  frightened  children  somewhere  else  in  the 
house  to  keep  him  company.  And  outside  there 
was  only  a  hard,  narrow,  paved  courtyard  with  a 


vi  His  Prison  Friend  71 

high  wall  round  it.  Oh,  it  was  too  terrible  to  think 
of,  and  his  heart  sank  down  within  him  till  he  felt  as 
if  he  could  do  nothing  else  but  cry. 

"  I  shall  save  you  in  time,"  whispered  the  governess, 
as  if  she  read  his  thoughts.  "You  must  be  patient, 
and  do  what  I  tell  you,  and  I  promise  to  get  you  out. 
Only  be  brave,  and  don't  ask  too  many  questions. 
We  shall  win  in  the  end  and  escape." 

Suddenly  he  looked  up,  with  quite  a  new  ex- 
pression in  his  face.  "But  I  say,  Miss  Cake,  I'm 
frightfully  hungry.  I've  had  nothing  to  eat  since  — 
I  can't  remember  when,  but  ever  so  long  ago." 

"You  needn't  call  me  Miss  Cake,  though,"  she 
laughed. 

"I  suppose  it's  because  I'm  so  hungry." 

"Then  you'll  call  me  Miss  Lake  when  you're 
thirsty,  perhaps,"  she  said.  "But,  anyhow,  I'll  see 
what  I  can  get  you.  Only,  you  must  eat  as  little  as 
possible.  I  want  you  to  get  very  thin.  What  you 
feel  is  not  really  hunger  —  it's  only  a  memory  of 
hunger,  and  you'll  soon  get  used  to  it." 

He  stared  at  her  with  a  very  distressful  little  face 
as  she  crossed  the  room  making  this  new  announce- 
ment; and  just  as  she  disappeared  through  the  trap- 
door, only  her  head  being  visible,  she  added  with 
great  emphasis:  "The  thinner  you  get  the  better; 
because  the  thinner  you  are  the  lighter  you  are,  and 
the  lighter  you  are  the  easier  it  will  be  to  escape. 


72  Jimbo  CHAP,  vi 

Remember,  the  thinner  the  better  —  the  lighter  the 
better  —  and  don't  ask  a  lot  of  questions  about  it." 
With  that  the  trap-door  closed  over  her,  and 
Jimbo  was  left  alone  with  her  last  strange  words 
ringing  in  his  ears. 


CHAPTER  VII 

UNDER  THE   SPELL 

IT  was  not  long  before  Jimbo  realised  that  the 
house,  and  everything  connected  with  it,  spelt  for 
him  one  message,  and  one  only  —  a  message  of  fear. 
From  the  first  day  of  his  imprisonment  the  forces  of 
his  whole  being  shaped  themselves  without  further 
ado  into  one  intense,  single,  concentrated  desire  to 
escape. 

Freedom,  escape  into  the  world  beyond  that  terri- 
ble high  wall,  was  his  only  object,  and  Miss  Lake, 
the  governess,  as  its  symbol,  was  his  only  hope.  He 
asked  a  lot  of  questions  and  listened  to  a  lot  of 
answers,  but  all  he  really  cared  about  was  how  he 
was  going  to  escape,  and  when.  All  her  other 
explanations  were  tedious,  and  he  only  half  listened 
to  them.  His  faith  in  her  was  absolute,  his  patience 
unbounded;  she  had  come  to  save  him,  and  he  knew 
that  before  long  she  would  accomplish  her  end.  He 
felt  a  blind  and  perfect  confidence.  But,  meanwhile, 
his  fear  of  the  house,  and  his  horror  of  the  secret 
being  who  meant  to  keep  him  prisoner  till  at  length 

73 


74  Jimbo  CHAP. 

he  became  one  of  the  troop  of  frightened  children, 
increased  by  leaps  and  bounds. 

Presently  the  trap-door  creaked  again,  and  the 
governess  reappeared;  in  her  hand  was  a  small  white 
jug  and  a  soup-plate. 

"Thin  gruel  and  skim  milk,"  she  explained,  pour- 
ing out  a  substance  like  paste  into  the  soup-plate, 
and  handing  him  a  big  wooden  spoon. 

But  Jimbo' s  hunger  had  somehow  vanished. 

"It  wasn't  real  hunger,"  she  told  him,  "but  only  a 
sort  of  memory  of  being  hungry.  They're  trying 
to  feed  your  broken  body  now  in  the  night  nursery, 
and  so  you  feel  a  sort  of  ghostly  hunger  here  even 
though  you're  out  of  the  body." 

"It's  easily  satisfied,  at  any  rate,"  he  said,  looking 
at  the  paste  in  the  soup-plate. 

"No  one  actually  eats  or  drinks  here " 

"But  I'm  solid,"  he  said,  "am  I  not?" 

"People  always  think  they're  solid  everywhere," 
she  laughed.  "It's  only  a  question  of  degree;  solid- 
ity here  means  a  different  thing  to  solidity  there" 

"I  can  get  thinner  though,  can't  I?"  he  asked, 
thinking  of  her  remark  about  escape  being  easier 
the  lighter  he  grew. 

She  assured  him  there  would  be  no  difficulty 
about  that,  and  after  replying  evasively  to  a  lot  more 
questions,  she  gathered  up  the  dishes  and  once  more 
disappeared  through  the  trap-door. 


vii  Under  the  Spell  75 

Jimbo  watched  her  going  down  the  ladder  into 
the  black  gulf  below,  and  wondered  greatly  where 
she  went  to  and  what  she  did  down  there;  but  on 
these  points  the  governess  had  refused  to  satisfy  his 
curiosity,  and  every  time  she  appeared  or  disappeared 
the  atmosphere  of  mystery  came  and  went  with  her. 

As  he  stared,  wondering,  a  sound  suddenly  made 
itself  heard  behind  him,  and  on  turning  quickly 
round  he  saw  to  his  great  surprise  that  the  door  into 
the  passage  was  open.  This  was  more  than  he 
could  resist,  and  in  another  minute,  with  mingled 
feelings  of  dread  and  delight,  he  was  out  in  the 
passage. 

When  he  was  first  brought  to  the  house,  two 
hours  before,  it  had  been  too  dark  to  see  properly, 
but  now  the  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens,  and  the 
light  still  increasing.  He  crept  cautiously  to  the 
head  of  the  stairs  and  peered  over  into  the  well  of 
the  house.  It  was  still  too  dark  to  make  things 
out  clearly;  but,  as  he  looked,  he  thought  something 
moved  among  the  shadows  below,  and  for  a  moment 
his  heart  stood  still  with  fear.  A  large  grey  face 
seemed  to  be  staring  up  at  him  out  of  the  gloom. 
He  clutched  the  banisters  and  felt  as  if  he  hardly 
had  strength  enough  in  his  legs  to  get  back  to  the 
room  he  had  just  left;  but  almost  immediately  the 
terror  passed,  for  he  saw  that  the  face  resolved  itself 
into  the  mingling  of  light  and  shadow,  and  the 


76  Jimbo  CHAP. 

features,  after  all,  were  of  his  own  creation.  He 
went  on  slowly  and  stealthily  down  the  staircase. 

It  was  certainly  an  empty  house.  There  were 
no  carpets;  the  passages  were  cold  and  draughty; 
the  paper  curled  from  the  damp  walls,  leaving  ugly 
discoloured  patches  about;  cobwebs  hung  in  many 
places  from  the  ceiling,  the  windows  were  more  or 
less  broken,  and  all  were  coated  so  thickly  with 
dirt  that  the  rain  had  traced  little  furrows  from  top 
to  bottom.  Shadows  hung  about  everywhere,  and 
Jimbo  thought  every  minute  he  saw  moving  figures; 
but  the  figures  always  resolved  themselves  into  noth- 
ing when  he  looked  closely. 

He  began  to  wonder  how  far  it  was  safe  to  go, 
and  why  the  governess  had  arranged  for  the  door 
to  be  opened  —  for  he  felt  sure  it  was  she  who  had 
done  this,  and  that  it  was  all  right  for  him  to  come 
out.  Fright,  she  had  said,  was  never  about  in  the 
daylight.  But,  at  the  same  time,  something  warned 
him  to  be  ready  at  a  moment's  notice  to  turn  and 
dash  up  the  stairs  again  to  the  room  where  he  was 
at  least  comparatively  safe. 

So  he  moved  along  very  quietly  and  very  cau- 
tiously. He  passed  many  rooms  with  the  doors 
open  —  all  empty  and  silent;  some  of  them  had 
tables  and  chairs,  but  no  sign  of  occupation;  the 
grates  were  black  and  empty,  the  walls  blank,  the 
windows  unshuttered.  Everywhere  was  only  silence 


VH  Under  the  Spell  77 

and  shadows;  there  was  no  sign  of  the  frightened 
children,  or  of  where  they  lived;  no  trace  of  another 
staircase  leading  to  the  region  where  the  governess 
went  when  she  disappeared  down  the  ladder  through 
the  trap-door  —  only  hushed,  listening,  cold  silence, 
and  shadows  that  seemed  for  ever  shifting  from  place 
to  place  as  he  moved  past  them.  This  illusion  of 
people  peering  at  him  from  corners,  and  behind 
doors  just  ajar,  was  very  strong;  yet  whenever  he 
turned  his  head  to  face  them,  lo,  they  were  gone,  and 
the  shadows  of  the  house  rushed  in  to  fill  their  places. 

The  spell  of  the  Empty  House  was  weaving 
itself  slowly  and  surely  about  his  heart. 

Yet  he  went  on  pluckily,  full  of  a  dreadful 
curiosity,  continuing  his  search,  and  at  length,  after 
passing  through  another  gloomy  passage,  he  was  in 
the  act  of  crossing  the  threshold  of  an  open  door 
leading  out  into  the  courtyard,  when  he  stopped 
short  and  clutched  the  door-posts  with  both  hands. 

Someone  had  laughed ! 

He  turned,  trying  to  look  in  every  direction  at 
once,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  any  living  being. 
Yet  the  sound  was  close  beside  him;  he  could  still 
hear  it  ringing  in  his  ears  —  a  mocking  sort  of 
laugh,  in  a  harsh,  guttural  voice.  The  blood  froze 
in  his  veins,  and  he  hardly  knew  which  way  to  turn, 
when  another  voice  sounded,  and  his  terror  dis- 
appeared as  if  by  magic. 


78  Jinibo  CHAP. 

It  was  Miss  Lake's  voice  calling  to  him  over  the 
banisters  at  the  top  of  the  house,  and  its  tone  was  so 
cheerful  that  all  his  courage  came  back  in  a  twinkling. 

"Go  out  into  the  yard,"  she  called,  "and  play  in 
the  sunshine.  But  don't  stay  too  long." 

Jimbo  answered  "All  right"  in  a  rather  feeble 
little  voice,  and  went  on  down  the  passage  and  out 
into  the  yard. 

The  June  sunshine  lay  hot  and  still  over  the 
paved  court,  and  he  looked  up  into  the  blue  sky 
overhead.  As  he  looked  at  the  high  wall  that  closed 
it  in  on  three  sides,  he  realised  more  than  ever  that 
he  was  caught  in  a  monstrous  trap  from  which  there 
could  be  no  ordinary  means  of  escape.  He  could 
never  climb  over  such  a  wall  even  with  a  ladder. 
He  walked  out  a  little  way  and  noticed  the  rank 
weeds  growing  in  patches  in  the  corners;  decay  and 
neglect  left  everywhere  their  dismal  signs;  the  yard, 
in  spite  of  the  sunlight,  seemed  as  gloomy  and 
cheerless  as  the  house  itself. 

In  one  corner  stood  several  little  white  upright 
stones,  each  about  three  feet  high;  there  seemed  to 
be  some  writing  on  them,  and  he  was  in  the  act  of 
going  nearer  to  inspect,  when  a  window  opened  and 
he  heard  someone  calling  to  him  in  a  loud,  excited 
whisper: 

"Hst!  Come  in,  Jimbo,  at  once.  Quick!  Run 
for  your  life!" 


vii  Under  the  Spell  79 

He  glanced  up,  quaking  with  fear,  and  saw  the 
governess  leaning  out  of  the  open  window.  At 
another  window,  a  little  beyond  her,  he  thought  a 
number  of  white  little  faces  pressed  against  the 
glass,  but  he  had  no  time  to  look  more  closely,  for 
something  in  Miss  Lake's  voice  made  him  turn  and 
run  into  the  house  and  up  the  stairs  as  though 
Fright  himself  were  close  at  his  heels.  He  flew  up 
the  three  flights,  and  found  the  governess  coming 
out  on  the  top  landing  to  meet  him.  She  caught 
him  in  her  arms  and  dashed  back  into  the  room,  as 
if  there  was  not  a  moment  to  be  lost,  slamming  the 
door  behind  her. 

"How  in  the  world  did  you  get  out?"  she 
gasped,  breathless  as  himself  almost,  and  pale 
with  alarm.  "Another  second  and  he'd  have  had 
you !" 

"I  found  the  door  open " 

"He  opened  it  on  purpose,"  she  whispered,  look- 
ing quickly  round  the  room.  "He  meant  you  to 
go  out." 

"But  you  called  to  me  to  play  in  the  yard,"  he 
said.  "I  heard  you.  So  of  course  I  thought  it  was 
safe." 

"No,"  she  declared,  " I  never  called  to  you.  That 
wasn't  my  voice.  That  was  one  of  his  tricks.  I 
only  this  minute  found  the  door  open  and  you  gone. 
Oh,  Jimbo,  that  was  a  narrow  escape;  you  must 


8o  Jimbo  CHAP. 

never  go  out  of  this  room  till  —  till  I  tell  you.  And 
never  believe  any  of  these  voices  you  hear  —  you'll 
hear  lots  of  them,  saying  all  sorts  of  things  —  but 
unless  you  see  me,  don't  believe  it's  my  voice." 

Jimbo  promised.  He  was  very  frightened;  but 
she  would  not  tell  him  any  more,  saying  it  would 
only  make  it  more  difficult  to  escape  if  he  knew  too 
much  in  advance.  He  told  her  about  the  laugh, 
and  the  gravestones,  and  the  faces  at  the  other 
window,  but  she  would  not  tell  him  what  he  wanted 
to  know,  and  at  last  he  gave  up  asking.  A  very 
deep  impression  had  been  made  on  his  mind,  how- 
ever, and  he  began  to  realise,  more  th*an  he  had 
hitherto  done,  the  horror  of  his  prison  and  the 
power  of  his  dreadful  keeper. 

But  when  he  began  to  look  about  him  again,  he 
noticed  that  there  was  a  new  thing  in  the  room. 
The  governess  had  left  him,  and  was  bending  over 
it.  She  was  doing  something  very  busily  indeed. 
He  asked  her  what  it  was. 

"I'm  making  your  bed,"  she  said. 

It  was,  indeed,  a  bed,  and  he  felt  as  he  looked  at 
it  that  there  was  something  very  familiar  and  friendly 
about  the  yellow  framework  and  the  little  brass 
knobs. 

"I  brought  it  up  just  now,"  she  explained.  "But 
it's  not  for  sleeping  in.  It's  only  for  you  to  lie 
down  on,  and  also  partly  to  deceive  him." 


VH  Under  the  Spell  81 

" Why  not  for  sleeping?" 

"  There's  no  sleeping  at  all  here,"  she  went  on 
calmly. 

"Why  not?" 

"You  can't  sleep  out  of  your  body,"  she  laughed. 

"Why  not?"  he  asked  again. 

"Your  body  goes  to  sleep,  but  you  don't,"  she 
explained. 

"Oh,  I  see."  His  head  was  whirling.  "And  my 
body  —  my  real  body " 

"Is  lying  asleep  —  unconscious  they  call  it  —  in 
the  night  nursery  at  home.  It's  sound  asleep. 
That's  why  you're  here.  It  can't  wake  up  till  you 
go  back  to  it,  and  you  can't  go  back  to  it  till  you 
escape  —  even  if  it's  ready  for  you  before  then.  The 
bed  is  only  for  you  to  rest  on,  for  you  can  rest  though 
you  can't  sleep." 

Jimbo  stared  blankly  at  the  governess  for  some 
minutes.  He  was  debating  something  in  his  mind, 
something  very  important,  and  just  then  it  was  his 
Older  Self,  and  not  the  child,  that  was  uppermost. 
Apparently  it  was  soon  decided,  for  he  walked 
sedately  up  to  her  and  said  very  gravely,  with  her 
serious  eyes  fixed  on  his  face: 

"Miss  Lake,  are  you  really  Miss  Lake?" 

"Of  course  I  am." 

"You're  not  a  trick  of  his,  like  the  voices,  I 
mean?" 


82  Jimbo  CHAP. 

"No,  Jimbo,  I  am  really  Miss  Lake,  the  dis- 
charged governess  who  frightened  you."  There  was 
profound  anxiety  in  every  word. 

Jimbo  waited  a  minute,  still  looking  steadily  into 
her  eyes.  Then  he  put  out  his  hand  cautiously  and 
touched  her.  He  rose  a  little  on  tiptoe  to  be  on  a 
level  with  her  face,  taking  a  fold  of  her  cloak  in  each 
hand.  The  soul-knowledge  was  in  his  eyes  just 
then,  not  the  mere  curiosity  of  the  child. 

"And  are  you  —  dead?"  he  asked,  sinking  his 
voice  to  a  whisper. 

For  a  moment  the  woman's  eyes  wavered.  She 
turned  white  and  tried  to  move  away;  but  the  boy 
seized  her  hand  and  peered  more  closely  into  her 
face. 

"I  mean,  if  we  escape  and  I  get  back  into  my 
body,"  he  whispered,  "will  you  get  back  into 
yours,  too?" 

The  governess  made  no  reply,  and  shifted  uneasily 
on  her  feet.  But  the  boy  would  not  let  her  go. 

"Please  answer,"  he  urged,  still  in  a  whisper. 

"Jimbo,  what  funny  questions  you  ask!"  she  said 
at  last,  in  a  husky  voice,  but  trying  to  smile. 

"But  I  want  to  know,"  he  said.  "I  must  know. 
I  believe  you  are  giving  up  everything  just  to  save 
me  —  everything;  and  I  don't  want  to  be  saved 
unless  you  come,  too.  Tell  me!" 

The  colour  came  back  to  her  cheeks  a  little,  and 


vn  Under  the  Spell  83 

her  eyes  grew  moist.  Again  she  tried  to  slip  past 
him,  but  he  prevented  her. 

"You  must  tell  me,"  he  urged;  "I  would  rather 
stay  here  with  you  than  escape  back  into  my  body 
and  leave  you  behind." 

Jimbo  knew  it  was  his  Older  Self  speaking  —  the 
freed  spirit  rather  then  the  broken  body  —  but  he 
felt  the  strain  was  very  great ;  he  could  not  keep  it 
up  much  longer;  any  minute  he  might  slip  back 
into  the  child  again,  and  lose  interest,  and  be  unequal 
to  the  task  he  now  saw  so  clearly  before  him. 

"Quick!"  he  cried  in  a  louder  voice.  "Tell  me! 
You  are  giving  up  everything  to  save  me,  aren't 

you?  And  if  I  escape  you  will  be  left  alone 

quick,  answer  me!  Oh,  be  quick !  I'm  slipping 
back " 

Already  he  felt  his  thoughts  becoming  confused 
again,  as  the  spirit  merged  back  into  the  child;  in 
another  minute  the  boy  would  usurp  the  older 
self. 

"You  see,"  began  the  governess  at  length,  speak- 
ing very  gently  and  sadly,  "I  am  bound  to  make 
amends  whatever  happens.  I  must  atone " 

But  already  he  found  it  hard  to  follow. 

"Atone?"  he  asked;  "what  does  'atone'  mean?" 
He  moved  back  a  step,  and  glanced  about  the  room. 
The  moment  of  concentration  had  passed  without 
bearing  fruit;  his  thoughts  began  to  wander  again 


84  Jimbo  CHAP. 

like  a  child's.  "Anyhow,  we  shall  escape  together 
when  the  chance  comes,  shan't  we?"  he  said. 

"Yes,  darling,  we  shall,"  she  said  in  a  broken 
voice.  "And  if  you  do  what  I  tell  you,  it  will  come 
very  soon,  I  hope."  She  drew  him  towards  her 
and  kissed  him,  and  though  he  didn't  respond  very 
heartily,  he  felt  he  liked  it,  and  was  sure  that  she 
was  good,  and  meant  to  do  the  best  possible  for  him. 

Jimbo  asked  nothing  more  for  some  time;  he 
turned  to  the  bed,  where  he  found  a  mattress  and  a 
blanket  but  no  sheets,  and  sat  down  on  the  edge 
and  waited.  The  governess  was  standing  by  the 
window  looking  out;  her  back  was  turned  to  him. 
He  heard  an  occasional  deep  sigh  come  from  her, 
but  he  was  too  busy  now  with  his  own  sensations  to 
trouble  much  about  her.  Looking  past  her  he  saw 
the  sea  of  green  leaves  dancing  lazily  in  the  sunshine. 
Something  seemed  to  beckon  him  from  beyond  the 
high  wall,  and  he  longed  to  go  out  and  play  in  the 
shade  of  the  elms  and  hawthorns;  for  the  horror  of 
the  Empty  House  was  closing  in  upon  him  steadily 
but  surely,  and  he  longed  for  escape  into  a  bright, 
unhaunted  atmosphere,  more  than  anything  else  in 
the  whole  world. 

His  thoughts  ran  on  and  on  in  this  vein,  till 
presently  he  noticed  that  the  governess  was  moving 
about  the  room.  She  crossed  over  and  tried  first 
one  door  and  then  the  other;  both  were  fastened. 


vn  Under  the  Spell  85 

Next  she  lifted  the  trap-door  and  peered  down  into 
the  black  hole  below.  That,  too,  apparently  was 
satisfactory.  Then  she  came  over  to  the  bedside  on 
tiptoe. 

"Jimbo,  I've  got  something  very  important  to 
ask  you,"  she  began. 

"All  right,"  he  said,  full  of  curiosity. 

"You  must  answer  me  very  exactly.  Everything 
depends  on  it." 

"  I  will." 

She  took  another  long  look  round  the  room,  and 
then,  in  a  still  lower  whisper,  bent  over  him,  and 
asked : 

"Have  you  any  pain?" 

"Where?"  he  asked,  remembering  to  be  exact. 

"Anywhere." 

He  thought  a  moment. 

"None,  thank  you." 

"None  at  all  —  anywhere?"   she  insisted. 

"None  at  all  —  anywhere,"  he  said  with  decision. 

She  seemed  disappointed. 

"Never  mind;  it's  a  little  soon  yet,  perhaps,"  she 
said.  "We  must  have  patience.  It  will  come  in 
time." 

"But  I  don't  want  any  pain,"  he  said,  rather 
ruefully. 

"You  can't  escape  till  it  comes." 

"I  don't  understand  a  bit  what  you  mean."     He 


86  Jimbo  CHAP,  vn 

began  to  feel  alarmed  at  the  notion  of  escape  and 
pain  going  together. 

"  You'll  understand  later,  though/'  she  said 
soothingly,  "and  it  won't  hurt  very  much.  The 
sooner  the  pain  comes,  the  sooner  we  can  try  to 
escape.  Nowhere  can  there  be  escape  without  it." 

And  with  that  she  left  him,  disappearing  without 
another  word  into  the  hole  below  the  trap,  and 
leaving  him,  disconsolate  yet  excited,  alone  in 
the  room. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   GALLERY   OF  MEMORIES 

WITH  every  one,  of  course,  the  measurement  of 
time  depends  largely  upon  the  state  of  the  emotions, 
but  in  Jimbo's  case  it  was  curiously  exaggerated. 
This  may  have  been  because  he  had  no  standard  of 
memory  by  which  to  test  the  succession  of  minutes ; 
but,  whatever  it  was,  the  hours  passed  very  quickly, 
and  the  evening  shadows  were  already  darkening  the 
room  when  at  length  he  got  up  from  the  mattress 
and  went  over  to  the  window. 

Outside  the  high  elms  were  growing  dim;  soon 
the  stars  would  be  out  in  the  sky.  The  afternoon 
had  passed  away  like  magic,  and  the  governess  still 
left  him  alone;  he  could  not  quite  understand  why 
she  went  away  for  such  long  periods. 

The  darkness  came  down  very  swiftly,  and  it  was 
night  almost  before  he  knew  it.  Yet  he  felt  no 
drowsiness,  no  desire  to  yawn  and  get  under  sheets 
and  blankets;  sleep  was  evidently  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, and  the  hours  slipped  away  so  rapidly  that 
it  made  little  difference  whether  he  sat  up  all  night 
or  whether  he  slept. 

87 


88  Jimbo  CHAP. 

It  was  his  first  night  in  the  Empty  House,  and 
he  wondered  how  many  more  he  would  spend  there 
before  escape  came.  He  stood  at  the  window,  peer- 
ing out  into  the  growing  darkness  and  thinking  long, 
long  thoughts.  Below  him  yawned  the  black  gulf 
of  the  yard,  and  the  outline  of  the  enclosing  wall 
was  only  just  visible,  but  beyond  the  elms  rose  far 
into  the  sky,  and  he  could  hear  the  wind  singing 
softly  in  their  branches.  The  sound  was  very  sweet; 
it  suggested  freedom,  and  the  flight  of  birds,  and  all 
that  was  wild  and  unrestrained.  The  wind  could 
never  really  be  a  prisoner;  its  voice  sang  of  open 
spaces  and  unbounded  distances,  of  flying  clouds 
and  mountains,  of  mighty  woods  and  dancing  waves ; 
above  all,  of  wings  —  free,  swift,  and  unconquerable 
wings. 

But  this  rushing  song  of  wind  among  the  leaves 
made  him  feel  too  sad  to  listen  long,  and  he  lay 
down  upon  the  bed  again,  still  thinking,  thinking. 

The  house  was  utterly  still.  Not  a  thing  stirred 
within  its  walls.  He  felt  lonely,  and  began  to  long 
for  the  companionship  of  the  governess;  he  would 
have  called  aloud  for  her  to  come  only  he  was  afraid 
to  break  the  appalling  silence.  He  wondered  where 
she  was  all  this  time  and  how  she  spent  the  long, 
dark  hours  of  the  sleepless  nights.  Were  all  these 
things  really  true  that  she  told  him?  Was  he 
actually  out  of  his  body,  and  was  his  name  really 


vin  The  Gallery  of  Memories  89 

Jimbo  ?  His  thoughts  kept  groping  backwards,  ever 
seeking  the  other  companions  he  had  lost;  but,  like 
a  piece  of  stretched  elastic  too  short  to  reach  its 
object,  they  always  came  back  with  a  snap  just  when 
he  seemed  on  the  point  of  finding  them.  He 
wanted  these  companions  very  badly  indeed,  but  the 
struggling  of  his  memory  was  painful,  and  he  could 
not  keep  the  effort  up  for  very  long  at  one  time. 

The  effort  once  relaxed,  however,  his  thoughts 
wandered  freely  where  they  would;  and  there  rose 
before  his  mind's  eye  dim  suggestions  of  memories 
far  more  distant  —  ghostly  scenes  and  faces  that 
passed  before  him  in  endless  succession,  but  always 
faded  away  before  he  could  properly  seize  and  name 
them. 

This  memory,  so  stubborn  as  regards  quite  recent 
events,  began  to  play  strange  tricks  with  him.  It 
carried  him  away  into  a  past  so  remote  that  he  could 
not  connect  it  with  himself  at  all,  and  it  was  like 
dreaming  of  scenes  and  events  that  had  happened  to 
someone  else;  yet,  all  the  time,  he  knew  quite  well 
those  things  had  happened  to  him,  and  to  none  else. 
It  was  the  memory  of  the  soul  asserting  itself  now 
that  the  clamour  of  the  body  was  low.  It  was  an 
underground  river  coming  to  the  surface,  for  odd 
minutes,  here  and  there,  showing  its  waters  to  the 
stars  just  long  enough  to  catch  their  ghostly 
reflections  before  it  rolled  away  underground  again. 


go  Jimbo  CHAP. 

Yet,  swift  and  transitory  as  they  were,  these 
glimpses  brought  in  their  train  sensations  that  were 
too  powerful  ever  to  have  troubled  his  child-mind 
in  its  present  body.  They  stirred  in  him  the  strong 
emotions,  the  ecstasies,  the  terrors,  the  yearnings  of 
a  much  more  distant  past;  whispering  to  him,  could 
he  but  have  understood,  of  an  infinitely  deeper  layer 
of  memories  and  experiences  which,  now  released 
from  the  burden  of  the  immediate  years,  strove  to 
awaken  into  life  again.  The  soul  in  that  little  body 
covered  with  alpaca  knickerbockers  and  a  sailor 
blouse  seemed  suddenly  to  have  access  to  a  store- 
house of  knowledge  that  must  have  taken  centuries, 
rather  than  a  few  short  years,  to  acquire. 

It  was  all  very  queer.  The  feeling  of  tremendous 
age  grew  mysteriously  over  him.  He  realised  that 
he  had  been  wandering  for  ages.  He  had  been  to 
the  stars  and  also  to  the  deeps;  he  had  roamed  over 
strange  mountains  far  away  from  cities  or  inhabited 
places  of  the  earth,  and  had  lived  by  streams 
whose  waves  were  silvered  by  moonlight  dro  ping 
softly  through  whispering  palm  branches.  .  .  . 

Some  of  these  ghostly  memories  brought  him 
sensations  of  keenest  happiness  —  icy,  silver-radiant ; 
others  swept  through  his  heart  like  a  cold  wave, 
leaving  behind  a  feeling  of  unutterable  woe,  and  a 
sense  of  loneliness  that  almost  made  him  cry  aloud. 
And  there  came  Voices,  too  —  Voices  that  had  slept 


vni  The  Gallery  of  Memories  91 

so  long  in  the  inner  kingdoms  of  silence  that  they 
failed  to  rouse  in  him  the  very  slightest  emotion 
of  recognition.  .  .  . 

Worn  out  at  length  with  the  surging  of  these 
strange  hosts  through  him,  he  got  up  and  went  to 
the  open  window  again.  The  night  was  very  dark 
and  warm,  but  the  stars  had  disappeared,  and  there 
was  the  hush  and  the  faint  odour  of  coming  rain  in 
the  air.  He  smelt  leaves  and  the  earth  and  the 
moist  things  of  the  ground,  the  wonderful  perfume 
of  the  life  of  the  soil. 

The  wind  had  dropped;  all  was  silent  as  the 
grave;  the  leaves  of  the  elm  trees  were  motionless; 
no  bird  or  insect  raised  its  voice;  everything  slept; 
he  alone  was  watchful,  awake.  Leaning  over  the 
window-sill,  his  thoughts  searched  for  the  governess, 
and  he  wondered  anew  where  she  was  spending 
the  dark  hours.  She,  too,  he  felt  sure,  was  wakeful 
somewhere,  watching  with  him,  plotting  their  escape 
together,  and  always  mindful  of  his  safety.  .  .  . 

His  reverie  was  suddenly  interrupted  by  the 
flight  of  an  immense  night-bird  dropping  through 
the  air  just  above  his  head.  He  sprang  back  into 
the  room  with  a  startled  cry,  as  it  rushed  past  in  the 
darkness  with  a  great  swishing  of  wings.  The  size 
of  the  creature  filled  him  with  awe;  it  was  so  close 
that  the  wind  it  made  lifted  the  hair  on  his  forehead, 
and  he  could  almost  feel  the  feathers  brush  his 


92 


Jimbo  CHAP. 


cheeks.  He  strained  his  eyes  to  try  and  follow  it, 
but  the  shadows  were  too  deep  and  he  could  see 
nothing;  only  in  the  distance,  growing  every  mo- 
ment fainter,  he  could  hear  the  noise  of  big  wings 
threshing  the  air.  He  waited  a  little,  wondering 
if  another  bird  would  follow  it,  or  if  it  would 
presently  return  to  its  perch  on  the  roof;  and  then 
his  thoughts  passed  on  to  uncertain  memories  of 
other  big  birds  —  hawks,  owls,  eagles  —  that  he  had 
seen  somewhere  in  places  now  beyond  the  reach  of 
distinct  recollections.  .  .  . 

Soon  the  light  began  to  dawn  in  the  east,  and  he 
made  out  the  shape  of  the  elm  trees  and  the  dreadful 
prison  wall ;  and  with  the  first  real  touch  of  morning 
light  he  heard  a  familiar  creaking  sound  in  the  room 
behind  him,  and  saw  the  black  hood  of  the  governess 
rising  through  the  trap-door  in  the  floor. 

"But  you've  left  me  alone  all  night!"  he  said  at 
once  reproachfully,  as  she  kissed  him. 

"On  purpose,"  she  answered.  "He'd  get  sus- 
picious if  I  stayed  too  much  with  you.  It's  different 
in  the  daytime,  when  he  can't  see  properly." 

"Where's  he  been  all  night,  then?"  asked  the 
boy. 

"Last  night  he  was  out  most  of  the  time  — 
hunting " 

"Hunting!"  he  repeated,  with  excitement. 
"Hunting  what?" 


vni  The  Gallery  of  Memories  93 

"  Children  —  frightened  children,"  she  replied, 
lowering  her  voice.  "That's  how  he  found  you." 

It  was  a  horrible  thought  —  Fright  hunting  for 
victims  to  bring  to  his  dreadful  prison  —  and  Jimbo 
shivered  as  he  heard  it. 

"And  how  did  you  get  on  all  this  time?"  she 
asked,  hurriedly  changing  the  subject. 

"I've  been  remembering,  that  is  half  remember- 
ing, an  awful  lot  of  things,  and  feeling,  oh,  so  old. 
I  never  want  to  remember  anything  again,"  he  said 
wearily. 

"You'll  forget  quick  enough  when  you  get  back 
into  your  body,  and  have  only  the  body-memories," 
she  said,  with  a  sigh  that  he  did  not  understand. 
"But,  now  tell  me,"  she  added,  in  a  more  serious 
voice,  '  have  you  had  any  pain  yet?" 

He  shook  his  head.     She  stepped  up  beside  him. 

"None  there?"  she  asked,  touching  him  lightly 
just  behind  the  shoulder  blades. 

Jimbo  jumped  as  if  he  had  been  shot,  and  uttered 
a  piercing  yell. 

"That  hurts!"  he  screamed. 

"I'm  so  glad,"  cried  the  governess.  "That's  the 
pains  coming  at  last."  Her  face  was  beaming. 

"Coming!"  he  echoed;  "I  think  they've  come. 
But  if  they  hurt  as  much  as  that,  I  think  I'd  rather 
not  escape,"  -he  added  ruefully. 

"The  pain  won't  last  more  than  a  minute,"  she 


94  Jimbo  CHAP,  vin 

said  calmly.  "You  must  be  brave  and  stand  it. 
There's  no  escape  without  pain  —  from  anything." 

"If  there's  no  other  way,"  he  said  pluckily,  "I'll 
try,— but " 

"You  see,"  she  went  on,  rather  absently,  "at  this 
very  moment  the  doctor  is  probing  the  wounds  in 
your  back  where  the  horns  went  in " 

But  he  was  not  listening.  Her  explanations 
always  made  him  want  either  to  cry  or  to  laugh. 
This  time  he  laughed,  and  the  governess  joined  him, 
while  they  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  together  talking 
of  many  things.  He  did  not  understand  all  her 
explanations,  but  it  comforted  him  to  hear  them. 
So  long  as  somebody  understood,  no  matter  who, 
he  felt  it  was  all  right. 

In  this  way  several  days  and  nights  passed  quickly 
away.  The  pains  were  apparently  no  nearer,  but  as 
Miss  Lake  showed  no  particular  anxiety  at  their 
non-arrival,  he  waited  patiently,  too,  dreading  the 
moment,  yet  also  looking  forward  to  it  exceedingly. 

During  the  day  the  governess  spent  most  of  the 
time  in  the  room  with  him;  but  at  night,  when  he 
was  alone,  the  darkness  became  enchanted,  the  room 
haunted,  and  he  passed  into  the  long,  long  Gallery 
of  Memories. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   MEANS   OF  ESCAPE 

A  WEEK  passed,  and  Jimbo  began  to  wonder  if 
the  pains  he  so  much  dreaded,  yet  so  eagerly  longed 
for,  were  ever  coming  at  all.  The  imprisonment 
was  telling  upon  him,  and  he  grew  very  thin,  and 
consequently  very  light. 

The  nights,  though  he  spent  them  alone,  were 
easily  borne,  for  he  was  then  intensely  occupied,  and 
the  time  passed  swiftly ;  the  moment  it  was  dark  he 
stepped  into  the  Gallery  of  Memories,  and  in  a  little 
while  passed  into  a  new  world  of  wonder  and  delight. 
But  the  daytime  seemed  always  long.  He  stood 
for  hours  by  the  window  watching  the  trees  and  the 
sky,  and  what  he  saw  always  set  painful  currents 
running  through  his  blood  —  unsatisfied  longings, 
yearnings,  and  immense  desires  he  never  could 
understand. 

The  white  clouds  on  their  swift  journeys  took 
with  them  something  from  his  heart  every  time  he 
looked  upon  them;  they  melted  into  air  and  blue 
sky,  and  lo!  that  " something"  came  back  to  him 

95 


g6  Jimbo  CHAP. 

charged  with  all  the  wild  freedom  and  magic  of 
open  spaces,  distance,  and  rushing  winds. 

But  the  change  was  close  at  hand. 

One  night,  as  he  was  standing  by  the  open  window 
listening  to  the  drip  of  the  rain,  he  felt  a  deadly 
weakness  steal  over  him;  the  strength  went  out  of 
his  legs.  First  he  turned  hot,  and  then  he  turned 
cold;  clammy  perspiration  broke  out  all  over  him, 
and  it  was  all  he  could  do  to  crawl  across  the  room 
and  throw  himself  on  to  the  bed.  But  nor  sooner 
was  he  stretched  out  on  the  mattress  than  the 
feelings  passed  entirely,  and  left  behind  them  an 
intoxicating  sense  of  strength  and  lightness.  His 
muscles  became  like  steel  springs;  his  bones  were 
strong  as  iron  and  light  as  cork;  a  wonderful  vigour 
had  suddenly  come  into  him,  and  he  felt  as  if  he 
had  just  stepped  from  a  dungeon  into  fresh  air. 
He  was  ready  to  face  anything  in  the  world. 

But,  before  he  had  time  to  realise  the  full  enjoy- 
ment of  these  new  sensations,  a  stinging,  blinding 
pain  shot  suddenly  through  his  right  shoulder  as  if 
a  red-hot  iron  had  pierced  to  the  very  bone.  He 
screamed  out  in  agony;  though,  even  while  he 
screamed,  the  pain  passed.  Then  the  same  thing 
happened  in  his  other  shoulder.  It  shot  through  his 
back  with  equal  swiftness,  and  was  gone,  leaving 
him  lying  on  the  bed  trembling  with  pain.  But  the 
instant  it  was  gone  the  delightful  sensations  of 


ix  The  Means  of  Escape  97 

strength  and  lightness  returned,  and  he  felt  as  if 
his  whole  body  were  charged  with  some  new  and 
potent  force. 

The  pains  had  come  at  last!  Jimbo  had  no 
notion  how  they  could  possibly  be  connected  with 
escape,  but  Miss  Lake  —  his  kind  and  faithful  friend, 
Miss  Lake  —  had  said  that  no  escape  was  possible 
without  them;  and  had  promised  that  they  should 
be  brief.  And  this  was  true,  for  the  entire  episode 
had  not  taken  a  minute  of  time. 

"  ESCAPE,  ESCAPE ! "  —  the  words  rushed 
through  him  like  a  flame  of  fire.  Out  of  this 
dreadful  Empty  House,  into  the  open  spaces;  beyond 
the  prison  wall;  out  where  the  wind  and  the  rain 
could  touch  him;  where  he  could  feel  the  grass 
beneath  his  feet,  and  could  see  the  whole  sky  at 
once,  instead  of  this  narrow  strip  through  the 
window.  His  thoughts  flew  to  the  stars  and  the 
clouds.  .  .  . 

But  a  strange  humming  of  voices  interrupted  his 
flight  of  imagination,  and  he  saw  that  the  room  was 
suddenly  full  of  moving  figures.  They  were  passing 
before  him  with  silent  footsteps,  across  the  window 
from  door  to  door.  How  they  had  come  in,  or 
how  they  went  out,  he  never  knew;  but  his  heart 
stood  still  for  an  instant  as  he  recognised  the 
mournful  figures  of  the  Frightened  Children  filing 
before  him  in  a  slow  procession.  They  were  singing 


gS  Jimbo  CHAP. 

—  though  it  sounded  more  like  a  chorus  of  whisper- 
ing than  actual  singing  —  and  as  they  moved  past 
with  the  measured  steps  of  their  sorrowful  dance, 
he  caught  the  words  of  the  song  he  had  heard  them 
sing  when  he  first  came  into  the  house: 

We  hear  the  little  voices  in  the  wind 
Singing  of  freedom  we  may  never  find. 

Jimbo  put  his  fingers  into  his  ears,  but  still  the 
sound  came  through.  He  heard  the  words  almost 
as  if  they  were  inside  himself  —  his  own  thoughts 
singing: 

We  hear  the  little  footsteps  in  the  rain 
Running  to  help  us,  though  they  run  in  vain; 
Tapping  in  hundreds  on  the  window-pane. 

The  horrible  procession  filed  past  and  melted 
away  near  the  door.  They  were  gone  as  mysteri- 
ously as  they  had  come,  and  almost  before  he 
realised  it. 

He  sprang  from  the  bed  and  tried  the  doors; 
both  were  locked.  How  in  the  world  had  the 
children  got  in  and  out?  The  whispering  voices 
rose  again  on  the  night  air,  and  this  time  he  was 
sure  they  came  from  outside.  He  ran  to  the  open 
window  and  thrust  his  head  out  cautiously.  Sure 
enough,  the  procession  was  moving  slowly,  still  with 
the  steps  of  that  impish  dance  across  the  courtyard 
stones.  He  could  just  make  out  the  slow  waving 


ix  The  Means  of  Escape  99 

arms,  the  thin  bodies,  and  the  white  little  faces  as 
they  passed  on  silent  feet  through  the  darkness,  and 
again  a  fragment  of  the  song  rose  to  his  ears  as 
he  watched,  and  filled  him  with  an  overpowering 
sadness : 

We  have  no  joy  in  any  children's  game, 

For  happiness  to  us  is  but  a  name, 

Since  Terror  kissed  us  with  his  lips  of  flame. 

Then  he  noticed  that  the  group  was  growing 
smaller.  Already  the  numbers  were  less.  Some- 
where, over  there  in  the  dark  corner  of  the  yard,  the 
children  disappeared,  though  it  was  too  dark  to  see 
precisely  how  or  where. 

"We  dance  with  phantoms,  and  with  shadows 
play,"  rose  to  his  ears. 

Then  suddenly  he  remembered  the  little  white 
upright  stones  he  had  seen  in  that  corner  of  the 
yard,  and  understood.  One  by  one  they  vanished 
just  behind  those  stones. 

Jimbo  shivered,  and  drew  his  head  in.  He  did 
not  like  those  upright  stones;  they  made  him  un- 
comfortable and  afraid.  Now,  however,  the  last 
child  had  disappeared  and  the  song  had  ceased.  He 
realised  what  his  fate  would  be  if  the  escape  were 
not  successful;  he  would  become  one  of  this  band 
of  Frightened  Children ;  dwelling  somewhere  behind 
the  upright  stones;  a  terrified  shadow,  waiting  in 
vain  to  be  rescued,  waiting  perhaps  for  ever  and 


ioo  Jimbo  CHAP. 

ever.  The  thought  brought  the  tears  to  his  eyes, 
but  he  somehow  managed  to  choke  them  down. 
He  knew  it  was  the  young  portion  of  him  only  that 
felt  afraid  —  the  body ;  the  older  self  could  not  feel 
fear,  and  had  nothing  to  do  with  tears. 

He  lay  down  again  upon  the  hard  mattress  and 
waited ;  and  soon  afterwards  the  first  crimson  streaks 
of  sunrise  appeared  behind  the  high  elms,  and  rooks 
began  to  caw  and  shake  their  wings  in  the  upper 
branches.  A  little  later  the  governess  came  in. 

Before  he  could  move  out  of  the  way  —  for  he 
disliked  being  embraced  —  she  had  her  arms  round 
his  neck,  and  was  covering  him  with  kisses.  He 
saw  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"You  darling  Jimbo!"  she  cried,  "they've  come 
at  last." 

"How  do  you  know?"  he  asked,  surprised  at  her 
knowledge  and  puzzled  by  her  display  of  emotion. 

"I  heard  you  scream  to  begin  with.  Besides, 
I've  been  watching." 

"Watching?" 

"Yes,  and  listening,  too,  every  night,  every  single 
night.  You've  hardly  been  a  minute  out  of  my 
sight,"  she  added. 

"I  think  it's  awfully  good  of  you,"  he  said  doubt- 
fully, "but " 

A  flood  of  questions  followed  —  about  the  upright 
stones,  the  shadowy  children,  where  she  spent  the 


DC  The  Means  "of':Es°e&pe<  ;tof 

night  "watching  him,"  and  a  hundred  other  things 
besides.  But  he  got  little  satisfaction  out  of  her. 
He  never  did  when  it  was  Jimbo,  the  child,  that 
asked;  and  he  remained  Jimbo,  the  child,  all  that 
day.  She  only  told  him  that  all  was  going  well. 
The  pains  had  come;  he  had  grown  nice  and  thin, 
and  light;  the  children  had  come  into  his  room  as  a 
hint  that  he  belonged  to  their  band,  and  other  things 
had  happened  about  which  she  would  tell  him  later. 
The  crisis  was  close  at  hand.  That  was  all  he  could 
get  out  of  her. 

"It  won't  be  long  now,"  she  said  excitedly. 
"They'll  come  to-night,  I  expect." 

"What  will  come  to-night?"  he  asked,  with  tre- 
mendous wonder. 

"Wait  and  see!"  was  all  the  answer  he  got. 
"Wait  and  see!" 

She  told  him  to  lie  quietly  on  the  bed  and  to 
have  patience. 

With  asking  questions,  and  thinking,  and  won- 
dering, the  day  passed  very  quickly.  With  the 
lengthening  shadows  his  excitement  began  to 
grow.  Presently  Miss  Lake  took  her  departure  and 
went  off  4  to  her  unknown  and  mysterious  abode; 
he  watched  her  disappear  through  the  floor  with 
mingled  feelings,  wondering  what  would  have  hap- 
pened before  he  saw  her  again.  She  gave  him  a 
long,  last  look  as  she  sank  away  below  the  boards, 


io2  *  Jimbo 


CHAP. 


but  it  was  a  look  that  brought  him  fresh  courage, 
and  her  eyes  were  happy  and  smiling. 

Tingling  already  with  expectancy  he  got  into  the 
bed  and  lay  down,  his  brain  alive  with  one  word  — 
ESCAPE. 

From  where  he  lay  he  saw  the  stars  in  the  narrow 
strip  of  sky;  he  heard  the  wind  whispering  in  the 
branches;  he  even  smelt  the  perfume  of  the  fields 
and  hedges  —  grass,  flowers,  dew,  and  the  sweet 
earth  —  the  odours  of  freedom. 

The  governess  had,  for  some  reason  she  refused 
to  explain,  taken  his  blouse  away  with  her.  For  a 
long  time  he  puzzled  over  this,  seeking  reasons  and 
finding  none.  But,  while  in  the  act  of  stroking  his 
bare  arms,  the  pains  of  the  night  before  suddenly 
returned  to  both  shoulders  at  once.  Fire  seemed  to 
run  down  his  back,  splitting  his  bones  apart,  and 
then  passed  even  more  quickly  than  before,  leaving 
him  with  the  same  wonderful  sensations  of  lightness 
and  strength.  He  felt  inclined  to  shout  and  run 
and  jump,  and  it  was  only  the  memory  of  the 
governess'  earnest  caution  to  "lie  quietly"  that  pre- 
vented his  new  emotions  passing  into  acts. 

With  very  great  effort  he  lay  still  all  night  long; 
and  it  was  only  when  the  room  at  last  began  to  get 
light  again  that  he  turned  on  his  side,  preparatory  to 
getting  up. 

But     there     was     something     new  —  something 


ix  The  Means  of  Escape  103 

different !  He  rested  on  his  elbow,  waiting. 
Something  had  happened  to  him.  Cautiously  he 
sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  and  stretched  out  one 
foot  and  touched  the  floor.  Excitement  ran  through 
him  like  a  wave.  There  was  a  great  change,  a 
tremendous  change;  for  as  he  stepped  out  gingerly 
on  to  the  floor  something  followed  him  from  the  bed. 
It  clung  to  his  back;  it  touched  both  shoulders 
at  once;  it  stroked  his  ribs,  and  tickled  the  skin  of 
his  arms. 

Half  frightened,  he  brought  the  other  leg  over, 
and  stood  boldly  upright  on  both  feet.  But  .the 
weight  still  clung  to  his  back.  He  looked  over  his 
shoulder.  Yes!  it  was  trailing  after  him  from  the 
bed;  it  was  fan-shaped,  and  brilliant  in  colour.  He 
put  out  a  hand  and  touched  it;  it  was  soft  and 
glossy;  then  he  took  it  deliberately  between  his 
fingers;  it  was  smooth  as  velvet,  and  had  numerous 
tiny  ribs  running  along  it. 

Seizing  it  at  last  with  all  his  courage,  he  pulled  it 
forward  in  front  of  him  for  a  better  view,  only  to 
discover  that  it  would  not  come  out  beyond  a  certain 
distance,  and  seemed  to  have  got  caught  somehow 
between  his  shoulders  —  just  where  the  pains  had 
been.  A  second  pull,  more  vigorous  than  the  first, 
showed  that  it  was  not  caught,  but  fastened  to  his 
skin;  it  divided  itself,  moreover,  into  two  portions, 
one  half  coming  from  each  shoulder. 


IO4  Jimbo  CHAP. 

"I  do  believe  they're  feathers!"  he  exclaimed,  his 
eyes  almost  popping  out  of  his  head. 

Then,  with  a  sudden  flash  of  comprehension,  he 
saw  it  all,  and  understood.  They  were,  indeed, 
feathers;  but  they  were  something  more  than 
feathers  merely.  They  were  wings ! 

Jimbo  caught  his  breath  and  stared  in  silence. 
He  felt  dazed.  Then  bit  by  bit  the  fragments  of 
the  weird  mosaic  fell  into  their  proper  places,  and 
he  began  to  understand.  Escape  was  to  be  by  flight. 
It  filled  him  with  such  a  whirlwind  of  delight  and 
excitement  that  he  could  scarcely  keep  from  scream- 
ing aloud. 

Lost  in  wonder,  he  took  a  step  forward,  and 
watched  with  bulging  eyes  how  the  wings  followed 
him,  their  tips  trailing  along  the  floor.  They  were 
a  beautiful  deep  red,  and  hung  down  close  and  warm 
beside  his  body;  glossy,  sleek,  magical.  And  when, 
later,  the  sun  burst  into  the  room  and  turned  their 
colour  into  living  flame,  he  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  to  kiss  them.  He  seized  them,  and 
rubbed  their  soft  surfaces  over  his  face.  Such 
colours  he  had  never  seen  before,  and  he  wanted  to 
be  sure  that  they  really  belonged  to  him  and  were 
intended  for  actual  use. 

Slowly,  without  using  his  hands,  he  raised  them 
into  the  air.  The  effort  was  a  perfectly  easy 
muscular  effort  from  the  shoulders  that  came 


ix  The  Means  of  Escape  105 

naturally,  though  he  did  not  quite  understand  how 
he  accomplished  it.  The  wings  rose  in  a  fine, 
graceful  sweep,  curving  over  his  head  till  the  tips  of 
the  feathers  met,  touching  the  walls  as  they  rose, 
and  almost  reaching  to  the  ceiling. 

He  gave  a  howl  of  delight,  for  this  sight  was 
more  than  he  could  manage  without  some  outlet  for 
his  pent-up  emotion;  and  at  the  same  moment  the 
trap-door  shot  open,  and  the  governess  came  into 
the  room  with  such  a  bang  and  a  clatter  that  Jimbo 
knew  at  once  her  excitement  was  as  great  as  his  own. 
In  her  hands  she  carried  the  blouse  she  had  taken 
away  the  night  before.  She  held  it  out  to  him 
without  a  word.  Her  eyes  were  shining  like  electric 
lamps.  In  less  than  a  second  he  had  slipped  his 
wings  through  the  neatly  made  slits,  but  before  he 
could  practise  them  again,  Miss  Lake  rushed  over  to 
him,  her  face  radiant  with  happiness. 

"  Jimbo!  My  darling  Jimbo!"  she  cried — and 
then  stopped  short,  apparently  unable  to  express  her 
emotion. 

The  next  instant  he  was  enveloped,  wings  and 
all,  in  a  warm  confusion  of  kisses,  congratulations, 
and  folds  of  hood. 

When  they  became  disentangled  again  the 
governess  went  down  on  her  knees  and  made  a 
careful  examination;  she  pulled  the  wings  out  to 
their  full  extent  and  found  that  they  stretched  about 
four  feet  and  a  half  from  tip  to  tip. 


io6  Jimbo  CHAP. 

"They  are  beauties!"  she  exclaimed  enthusi- 
astically, "and  full  grown  and  strong.  I'm  not 
surprised  they  took  so  long  coming." 

"Long!"  he  echoed,  "I  thought  they  came  awfully 
quickly." 

"Not  half  so  quickly  as  they'll  go,"  she  interrupted; 
adding,  when  she  saw  his  expression  of  dismay,  "I 
mean,  you'll  fly  like  the  wind  with  them." 

Jimbo  was  simply  breathless  with  excitement. 
He  wanted  to  jump  out  of  the  window  and  escape 
at  once.  The  blue  sky  and  the  sunshine  and  the 
white  flying  clouds  sent  him  an  irresistible  invitation. 
He  could  not  wait  a  minute  longer. 

"Quick,"  he  cried,  "I  can't  wait!  They  may  go 
again.  Show  me  how  to  use  them.  Oh,  do  show 
me!" 

"I'll  show  you  everything  in  time,"  she  answered. 
There  was  something  in  her  voice  that  made  him 
pause  in  his  excitement.  He  looked  at  her  hi  silence 
for  some  minutes. 

"But  how  are  you  going  to  escape?"  he  asked  at 
length.  "You  haven't  got "  He  stopped  short. 

The  governess  stepped  back  a  few  paces  from 
him.  She  threw  back  the  hood  from  her  face. 
Then  she  lifted  the  long  black  cloak  that  hung  like 
a  cassock  almost  to  her  ankles  and  had  always 
enveloped  her  hitherto. 

Jimbo  stared.     Falling  from  her  shoulders,  and 


ix  The  Means  of  Escape  107 

folding  over  her  hips,  he  saw  the  long  red  feathers 
similar  to  his  own;  and  when  he  dashed  forward  to 
touch  them  with  his  own  hands  he  found  they  were 
just  as  sleek  and  smooth  and  glossy  as  his  own. 

"And  you  never  told  me  all  this  time?"  he 
gasped. 

"It  was  safer  not,"  she  said.  "You'd  have  been 
stroking  and  feeling  your  shoulders  the  whole  time, 
and  the  wings  might  never  have  come  at  all." 

She  spread  out  her  wings  as  she  spoke  to  their 
full  extent;  they  were  nearly  six  feet  across,  and  the 
deep  crimson  on  the  under  side  was  so  exquisite, 
gleaming  in  the  sunlight,  that  Jimbo  ran  in  and 
nestled  beneath  the  feathers,  tickling  his  cheeks 
with  the  fluffy  surface  and  running  his  fingers 
with  childish  delight  along  the  slender  red  quills. 

"You  precious  child!"  she  said,  tenderly  folding 
her  wings  round  him  and  kissing  the  top  of  his  head. 
"Always  remember  that  I  really  love  you;  no 
matter  what  happens,  remember  that,  and  I'll  save 
you." 

"And  we  shall  escape  together?"  he  asked, 
submitting  for  once  to  the  caresses  with  a  good 
grace. 

"We  shall  escape  from  the  Empty  House 
together,"  she  replied  evasively.  "How  far  we  can 
go  after  that  depends  —  on  you." 

"On  me?" 


io8  Jimbo  CHAP. 

"If  you  love  me  enough  —  as  I  love  you,  Jimbo 
—  we  can  never  separate  again,  because  love  ties  us 
together  for  ever.  Only,'*  she  added,  "it  must  be 
mutual." 

"I  love  you  very  much,"  he  said,  puzzled  a  little. 
"Of  course  I  do." 

"If  you've  really  forgiven  me  for  being  the  cause 
of  your  coming  here,"  she  said  questioningly,  "we 
can  always  be  together,  but " 

"I  don't  remember,  but  I've  forgiven  you  —  that 
old  you  —  long  ago,"  he  said  simply.  "  If  you  hadn't 
brought  me  here  I  should  never  have  met  you." 

"That's  not  real  forgiveness  —  quite,"  she  sighed, 
half  to  herself. 

But  Jimbo  could  not  follow  this  sort  of  con- 
versation for  long;  he  was  too  anxious  to  try  his 
wings  for  one  thing. 

"Is  it  very  difficult  to  use  them?"  he  asked. 

"Try,"  she  said. 

He  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  floor  and  raised 
them  again  and  again.  They  swept  up  easily, 
meeting  over  his  head,  and  the  air  whistled  musically 
through  them.  Evidently  they  had  their  proper 
muscles,  for  it  was  no  great  effort,  and  when  he 
folded  them  again  by  his  side  they  fell  into  natural 
curves  over  his  arms  as  if  they  had  been  there  all  his 
life.  The  sound  of  the  feathers  threshing  the  air 
filled  him  with  delight  and  made  him  think  of  the 


DC  The  Means  of  Escape  109 

big  night-bird  that  had  flown  past  the  window  during 
the  night.  He  told  the  governess  about  it,  and  she 
burst  out  laughing. 

"I  was  that  big  bird!"  she  said. 

"You!" 

"I  perched  on  the  roof  every  night  to  watch  over 
you.  I  flew  down  that  time  because  I  was  afraid 
you  were  trying  to  climb  out  of  the  window." 

This  was  indeed  a  proof  of  devotion,  and  Jimbo 
felt  that  he  could  never  doubt  her  again;  and  when 
she  went  on  to  tell  him  about  his  wings  and  how  to 
use  them  he  listened  with  his  very  best  attention  and 
tried  hard  to  learn  and  understand. 

"The  great  difficulty  is  that  you  can't  practise 
properly,"  she  explained.  "There's  no  room  in  here, 
and  yet  you  can't  get  out  till  you  fly  out.  It's  the 
first  swoop  that  decides  all.  You  have  to  drop 
straight  out  of  this  window,  and  if  you  use  the 
wings  properly  they  will  carry  you  in  a  single  swoop 
over  the  wall  and  right  up  into  the  sky." 

"But  if  I  miss ?" 

"You  can't  miss,"  she  said  with  decision,  "but,  if 
you  did,  you  would  be  a  prisoner  here  for  ever. 
HE  would  catch  you  in  the  yard  and  tear  your 
wings  off.  It  is  just  as  well  that  you  should  know 
this  at  once." 

Jimbo  shuddered  as  he  heard  her. 

"When  can  we  try?"  he  asked  anxiously. 


1 10  Jimbo  CHAP. 

"Very  soon  now.  The  muscles  must  harden 
first,  and  that  takes  a  little  time.  You  must  practise 
flapping  your  wings  until  you  can  do  it  easily  four 
hundred  times  a  minute.  When  you  can  do  that  it 
will  be  time  for  the  first  start.  You  must  keep 
your  head  steady  and  not  get  giddy;  the  novelty  of 
the  motion  —  the  ground  rushing  up  into  your  face 
and  the  whistling  of  the  wind  —  are  apt  to  confuse  at 
first,  but  it  soon  passes,  and  you  must  have  con- 
fidence. I  can  only  help  you  up  to  a  certain  point; 
the  rest  depends  on  you." 

"And  the  first  jump?" 

"You'll  have  to  make  that  by  yourself,"  she  said; 
"but  you'll  do  it  all  right.  You're  very  light,  and 
won't  go  too  near  the  ground.  You  see,  we're  like 
bats,  and  cannot  rise  from  the  earth.  We  can  only 
fly  by  dropping  from  a  height,  and  that's  what 
makes  the  first  plunge  rather  trying.  But  you 
won't  fall,"  she  added,  "and  remember,  I  shall 
always  be  within  reach." 

"You're  awfully  kind  to  me,"  said  Jimbo,  feeling 
his  little  soul  more  than  ever  invaded  by  the  force 
of  her  unselfish  care.  "I  promise  you  I'll  do  my 
best."  He  climbed  on  to  her  knee  and  stared  into 
her  anxious  face. 

"Then  you  are  beginning  to  love  me  a  little, 
aren't  you?"  she  asked  softly,  putting  her  arms 
round  him. 


DC  The  Means  of  Escape  in 

"  Yes,"  he  said  decidedly.  "  I  love  you  very  much 
already." 

Four  hundred  times  a  minute  sounded  a  very 
great  deal  of  wing-flapping;  but  Jimbo  practised 
eagerly,  and  though  at  first  he  could  only  manage 
about  twice  a  second,  or  one  hundred  and  twenty 
times  a  minute,  he  found  this  increased  very  soon 
to  a  great  deal  more,  and  before  long  he  was  able 
to  do  the  full  four  hundred,  though  only  for  a  few 
minutes  at  a  time. 

He  stuck  to  it  pluckily,  getting  stronger  every 
day.  The  governess  encouraged  him  as  much  as 
possible,  but  there  was  very  little  room  for  her  while 
he  was  at  work,  and  he  found  the  best  way  to 
practise  was  at  night  when  she  was  out  of  the  way. 
She  told  him  that  a  large  bird  moved  its  wings  about 
four  times  a  second,  two  up-strokes  and  two  down- 
strokes;  but  a  small  bird  like  a  partridge  moved  its 
wings  so  rapidly  it  was  impossible  for  the  eye  to 
distinguish  or  count  the  strokes.  A  middle  course 
of  four  hundred  suited  his  own  case  best,  and  he 
bent  all  his  energies  to  acquire  it. 

He  also  learned  that  the  convex  outside  curve  of 
wings  allowed  the  wind  to  escape  over  them,  while 
the  under  side,  being  concave,  held  every  breath. 
Thus  the  upward  stroke  did  not  simply  counter- 
balance the  downward  and  keep  him  stationary. 
Moreover,  she  showed  him  how  the  feathers  under- 


112 


Jimbo  CHAP,  ix 


lapped  each  other  so  that  the  downward  stroke 
pressed  them  closely  together  to  hold  the  wind, 
whereas  in  the  upward  stroke  they  opened  and 
separated,  letting  the  air  slip  easily  through  them, 
thus  offering  less  resistance  to  the  atmosphere. 

By  the  end  of  a  week  Jimbo  had  practised  so 
hard  that  he  could  keep  himself  off  the  floor  in  mid- 
air for  half  an  hour  at  a  time,  and  even  then  without 
feeling  any  great  fatigue.  His  excitement  became 
intense;  and,  meanwhile,  in  his  body  on  the  nursery 
bed,  though  he  did  not  know  it,  the  fever  was 
reaching  its  crisis.  He  could  think  of  nothing  else 
but  the  joys  of  flying,  and  what  the  first,  awful 
plunge  would  be  like,  and  when  Miss  Lake  came  up 
to  him  one  afternoon  and  whispered  something  in 
his  ear,  he  was  so  wildly  happy  that  he  hugged  her 
for  many  minutes  without  the  slightest  coaxing. 

"It's  bright  and  clear,"  she  explained,  "and  Fright 
will  not  come  after  us,  for  he  fears  the  light,  and 
can  only  fly  on  dark  and  gloomy  nights." 

"So  we  can  start ?"  he  stammered  joyfully. 

"To-night,"  she  answered,  "for  our  first  practice 
flight." 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  PLUNGE 

To  enter  the  world  of  wings  is  to  enter  a  new  state 
of  existence.  The  apparent  loss  of  weight;  the 
ability  to  attain  full  speed  in  a  few  seconds,  and  to 
stop  suddenly  in  a  headlong  rush  without  fear  of 
collapse;  the  power  to  steer  instantly  in  any  direction 
by  merely  changing  the  angle  of  the  body;  the 
altered  and  enormous  view  of  the  green  world  be- 
low—  looking  down  upon  forests,  seas,  and  clouds ; 
the  easy  voluptuous  rhythm  of  rising  and  falling  in 
long,  swinging  undulations;  and  a  hundred  other 
things  that  simply  defy  description  and  can  be 
appreciated  only  by  actual  experience,  these  are 
some  of  the  delights  of  the  new  world  of  wings  and 
flying.  And  the  fearful  joy  of  very  high  speed, 
especially  when  the  exhilaration  of  escape  is  added 
to  it,  means  a  condition  little  short  of  real  ecstasy. 

Yet  Jimbo's  first  flight,  the  governess  had  been 
careful  to  tell  him,  could  not  be  the  flight  of  final 
escape;  for,  even  if  the  wings  proved  equal  to  a 
prolonged  effort,  escape  was  impossible  until  there 
was  somewhere  safe  to  escape  to.  So  it  was  under- 
i  113 


H4  Jimbo  CHAP. 

stood  that  the  practice  flights  might  be  long,  or 
might  be  short;  the  important  thing,  meanwhile,  was 
to  learn  to  fly  as  well  as  possible.  For  skilled  flying 
is  very  different  to  mere  headlong  rushing,  and  both 
patience  and  perseverance  are  necessary  to  acquire  it. 

With  rare  common  sense  Miss  Lake  had  said 
very  little  about  the  possibility  of  failure.  Having 
warned  him  about  the  importance  of  not  falling,  she 
had  then  stopped,  and  the  power  of  suggestion  had 
been  allowed  to  work  only  in  the  right  direction  of 
certain  success.  While  the  boy  knew  that  the  first 
plunge  from  the  window  would  be  a  moment  fraught 
with  the  highest  danger,  his  mind  only  recognised 
the  mere  off-chance  of  falling  and  being  caught. 
He  felt  confidence  in  himself,  and  by  so  much, 
therefore,  were  the  chances  of  disaster  lessened. 

For  the  rest  of  the  afternoon  Jimbo  saw  nothing 
of  his  faithful  companion ;  he  spent  the  time  practis- 
ing and  resting,  and  when  weary  of  everything  else, 
he  went  to  the  window  and  indulged  in  thrilling 
calculations  about  the  exact  height  from  the  ground. 
A  drop  of  three  storeys  into  a  paved  courtyard  with 
a  monster  waiting  to  catch  him,  and  a  high  wall  too 
close  to  allow  a  proper  swing,  was  an  alarming  mat- 
ter from  any  point  of  view.  Fortunately,  his  mind 
dwelt  more  on  the  delight  of  prospective  flight  and 
freedom  than  on  the  chances  of  being  caught. 

The  yard  lay  hot  and  naked  in  the  afternoon 


x  The  Plunge  115 

glare  and  the  enclosing  wall  had  never  looked  more 
formidable;  but  from  his  lofty  perch  Jimbo  could 
see  beyond  into  soft  hayfields  and  smiling  meadows, 
yellow  with  cowslips  and  buttercups.  Everything 
that  flew  he  watched  with  absorbing  interest:  swift 
blackbirds,  whistling  as  they  went,  and  crows,  their 
wings  purple  in  the  sunshine.  The  song  of  the 
larks,  invisible  in  the  sea  of  blue  air,  sent  a  thrill  of 
happiness  through  him  —  he,  too,  might  soon  know 
something  of  that  glad  music  —  and  even  the  stately 
flight  of  the  butterflies,  which  occasionally  ventured 
over  into  the  yard,  stirred  anticipations  in  him  of 
joys  to  come. 

'  The  day  waned  slowly.  The  butterflies  vanished ; 
the  rooks  sailed  homewards  through  the  sunset; 
the  wind  dropped  away,  and  the  shadows  of  the 
high  elms  lengthened  gradually  and  fell  across  the 
window. 

The  mysterious  hour  of  the  dusk,  when  the 
standard  of  reality  changes  and  other  worlds  come 
close  and  listen,  began  to  work  its  subtle  spell  upon 
his  soul.  Imperceptibly  the  shadows  deepened  as 
the  veil  of  night  drew  silently  across  the  sky.  A 
gentle  breathing  filled  the  air;  trees  and  fields  were 
gathering  themselves  to  sleep;  stars  were  peeping; 
wings  were  being  folded. 

But  the  boy's  wings,  trembling  with  life  to  the 
very  tips  of  their  long  feathers,  these  were  not  being 


n6  Jimbo 


CHAP. 


folded.  Charged  with  excitement,  like  himself,  they 
were  gathering  all  their  forces  for  the  supreme  effort 
of  their  first  journey  out  into  the  open  spaces  where 
they  might  touch  the  secret  sources  of  their  own 
magical  life. 

For  a  long,  long  time  he  waited;  but  at  last  the 
trap-door  lifted  and  Miss  Lake  appeared  above  the 
floor.  The  moment  she  stood  in  the  room  he 
noticed  that  her  wings  came  through  two  little  slits 
in  her  gown  and  folded  down  close  to  the  body. 
They  almost  touched  the  ground. 

"Hush!"  she  whispered,  holding  up  a  warning 
finger. 

She  came  over  on  tiptoe  and  they  began  to  talk 
in  low  whispers. 

"He's  on  the  watch;  we  must  speak  very  quietly. 
We  couldn't  have  a  better  night  for  it.  The  wind's 
in  the  south  and  the  moon  won't  be  up  till  we're 
well  on  our  way." 

Now  that  the  actual  moment  was  so  near  the  boy 
felt  something  of  fear  steal  over  him.  The  night 
seemed  so  vast  and  terrible  all  of  a  sudden  —  like  an 
immense  black  ocean  with  no  friendly  islands  where 
they  could  fold  their  wings  and  rest. 

"Don't  waste  your  strength  thinking,"  whispered 
the  governess.  "  When  the  time  comes,  act  quickly, 
that's  all!" 

She  went  over  to  the  window  and  peered  out 


x  The  Plunge  117 

cautiously,  after  a  while  beckoning  the  child  to  join 
her. 

"He  is  there,"  she  murmured  in  his  ear.  Jimbo 
could  only  make  out  an  indistinct  shadowy  object 
crouching  under  the  wall,  and  he  was  not  even 
positive  of  that. 

"Does  he  know  we're  going?"  he  asked  in  an 
awed  whisper. 

"He's  there  on  the  chance,"  replied  the  governess, 
drawing  back  into  the  room.  "When  there's  a 
possibility  of  anyone  getting  frightened  he's  bound 
to  be  lurking  about  somewhere  near.  That's  Fright 
all  over.  But  he  can't  hurt  you,"  she  added, 
"because  you're  not  going  to  get  frightened.  And 
also  he  can  only  fly  when  it's  dark;  and  to-night  we 
shall  have  the  moon." 

"I'm  not  afraid,"  declared  the  boy  in  spite  of  a 
rather  fluttering  heart. 

"Are  you  ready?"  was  all  she  said. 

At  last,  then,  the  moment  had  come.  It  was 
actually  beside  him,  waiting,  full  of  mystery  and 
wonder,  with  alarm  not  far  behind.  The  sun  was 
buried  below  the  horizon  of  the  world,  and  the 
dusk  had  deepened  into  night.  Stars  were  shining 
overhead;  the  leaves  were  motionless;  not  a  breath 
stirred;  the  earth  was  silent  and  waiting. 

"Yes,  I'm  ready,"  he  whispered,  almost  inaudibly. 

"Then  listen,"  she  said,  "and  I'll  tell  you  exactly 


n8  Jimbo 


CHAP. 


what  to  do;  jump  upwards  from  the  window-ledge 
as  high  as  you  can,  and  the  moment  you  begin  to 
drop,  open  your  wings  and  strike  with  all  your 
might.  You'll  rise  at  once.  The  thing  to  remember 
is  to  rise  as  quickly  as  possible,  because  the  wall  pre- 
vents a  long,  easy,  sweeping  rise;  and,  whatever 
happens,  you  must  clear  that  wall!" 

"I  shan't  touch  the  ground,  then?"  asked  a  faint 
little  voice. 

"Of  course  not!  You'll  get  near  it,  but  the 
moment  you  use  your  wings  you'll  stop  sinking, 
and  rise  up,  up,  up,  ever  so  quickly." 

"And  where  to?" 

"To  me.  You'll  see  me  waiting  for  you  above 
the  trees.  Steering  will  come  naturally;  it's  quite 
easy." 

Jimbo  was  already  shaking  with  excitement.  He 
could  not  help  it.  And  he  knew,  in  spite  of  all 
Miss  Lake's  care,  that  Fright  was  waiting  in  the 
yard  to  catch  him  if  he  fell,  or  sank  too  near  the 
ground. 

"I'll  go  first,"  added  the  governess,  "and  the 
moment  you  see  that  I've  cleared  the  wall  you  must 
jump  after  me.  Only  do  not  keep  me  waiting!" 

The  girl  stood  for  a  minute  in  silence,  arranging 
her  wings.  Her  fingers  were  trembling  a  little. 
Suddenly  she  drew  the  boy  to  her  and  kissed  him 
passionately. 


x  The  Plunge  119 

"Be  brave!''  she  whispered,  looking  searchingly 
into  his  eyes,  "  and  strike  hard  —  you  can't  possibly 
fail." 

In  another  minute  she  was  climbing  out  of  the 
window.  For  one  second  he  saw  her  standing  on 
the  narrow  ledge  with  black  space  at  her  feet;  the 
next,  without  even  a  cry,  she  sprang  out  into  the 
darkness,  and  was  gone. 

Jimbo  caught  his  breath  and  ran  up  to  see.  She 
dropped  like  a  stone,  turning  over  sideways  in  the 
air,  and  then  at  once  her  wings  opened  on  both 
sides  and  she  righted.  The  darkness  swallowed  her 
up  for  a  moment  so  that  he  could  not  see  clearly, 
and  only  heard  the  threshing  of  the  huge  feathers; 
but  it  was  easy  to  tell  from  the  sound  that  she  was 
rising. 

Then  suddenly  a  black  form  cleared  the  wall  and 
rose  swiftly  in  a  magnificent  sweep  into  the  sky,  and 
he  saw  her  outlined  darkly  against  the  stars  above 
the  high  elm  trees.  She  was  safe.  Now  it  was 
his  turn. 

"Act  quickly!  Don't  think!"  rang  in  his  ears. 
If  only  he  could  do  it  all  as  quickly  as  she  had  done 
it.  But  insidious  fear  had  been  working  all  the 
time  below  the  surface,  and  his  refusal  to  recognise 
it  could  not  prevent  it  weakening  his  muscles  and 
checking  his  power  of  decision.  Fortunately  some- 
thing of  his  older  self  came  to  the  rescue.  The 


i2o  Jimbo  CHAP. 

emotions  of  fear,  excitement,  and  intense  anticipa- 
tion combined  to  call  up  the  powers  of  his  deeper 
being:  the  boy  trembled  horribly,  but  the  old, 
experienced  part  of  him  sang  with  joy. 

Cautiously  he  began  to  climb  out  on  to  the 
window-sill;  first  one  foot  and  then  the  other  hung 
over  the  edge.  He  sat  there,  staring  down  into 
black  space  beneath. 

For  a  minute  he  hesitated;  despair  rushed  over 
him  in  a  wave;  he  could  never  take  that  awful 
jump  into  emptiness  and  darkness.  It  was  im- 
possible. Better  be  a  prisoner  for  ever  than  risk 
so  fearful  a  plunge.  He  felt  cold,  weak,  frightened, 
and  made  a  half  movement  back  into  the  room. 
The  wings  caught  somehow  between  his  legs  and 
nearly  flung  him  headlong  into  the  yard. 

"Jimbo!  I'm  waiting  for  you!"  came  at  that 
moment  in  a  faint  cry  from  the  stars,  and  the  sound 
gave  him  just  the  impetus  he  needed  before  it  was 
too  late.  He  could  not  disappoint  her  —  his  faithful 
friend.  Such  a  thing  was  impossible. 

He  stood  upright  on  the  ledge,  his  hands  clutching 
the  window-sash  behind,  balancing  as  best  he  could. 
He  clenched  his  fists,  drew  a  deep,  long  breath, 
and  jumped  upwards  and  forwards  into  the  air. 

Up  rushed  the  darkness  with  a  shriek;  the  air 
whistled  in  his  ears;  he  dropped  at  fearful  speed 
into  nothingness. 


x  The  Plunge  121 

At  first  everything  was  forgotten  —  wings,  instruc- 
tions, warnings,  and  all.  He  even  forgot  to  open 
his  wings  at  all,  and  in  another  second  he  would 
have  been  dashed  upon  the  hard  paving-stones  of 
the  courtyard  where  his  great  enemy  lay  waiting  to 
seize  him. 

But  just  in  the  nick  of  time  he  remembered,  and 
the  long  hours  of  practice  bore  fruit.  Out  flew  the 
great  red  wings  in  a  tremendous  sweep  on  both  sides 
of  him,  and  he  began  to  strike  with  every  atom  of 
strength  he  possessed.  He  had  dropped  to  within 
six  feet  of  the  ground;  but  at  once  the  strokes 
began  to  tell,  and  oh,  magical  sensation!  he  felt 
himself  rising  easily,  lightly,  swiftly. 

A  very  slight  effort  of  those  big  wings  would 
have  been  sufficient  to  lift  him  out  of  danger,  but 
in  his  terror  and  excitement  he  quite  miscalculated 
their  power,  and  in  a  single  moment  he  was  far  out 
of  reach  of  the  dangerous  yard  and  anything  it 
contained.  But  the  mad  rush  of  it  all  made  his 
head  swim;  he  felt  dizzy  and  confused,  and, 
instead  of  clearing  the  wall,  he  landed  on  the  top 
of  it  and  clung  to  the  crumbling  coping  with  hands 
and  feet,  panting  and  breathless. 

The  dizziness  was  only  momentary,  however. 
In  less  than  a  minute  he  was  on  his  feet  and  in  the 
act  of  taking  his  second  leap  into  space.  This  time 
it  came  more  easily.  He  dropped,  and  the  field 


122  Jimbo 


CHAP.    X 


swung  up  to  meet  him.  Soon  the  powerful  strokes 
of  his  wings  drove  him  at  great  speed  upwards,  and 
he  bounded  ever  higher  towards  the  stars. 

Overhead,  the  governess  hovered  like  an  immense 
bird,  and  as  he  rose  up  he  caught  the  sound  of  her 
wings  beating  the  air,  while  far  beneath  him,  he 
heard  with  a  shudder  a  voice  like  the  rushing  of  a 
great  river.  It  made  him  increase  his  pace,  and  in 
another  minute  he  found  himself  among  the  little 
whirlwinds  that  raced  about  from  the  beating  of 
Miss  Lake's  great  wings. 

"Well  done!"  cried  the  delighted  governess. 
"Safe  at  last!  Now  we  can  fly  to  our  hearts' 
content!" 

Jimbo  flew  up  alongside,  and  together  they  dashed 
forward  into  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  FIRST  FLIGHT 

THERE  was  not  much  talking  at  first.  The  stress 
of  conflicting  emotions  was  so  fierce  that  the  words 
choked  themselves  in  his  throat,  and  the  desire  for 
utterance  found  its  only  vent  in  hard  breathing. 

The  intoxication  of  rapid  motion  carried  him 
away  headlong  in  more  senses  than  one.  At  first 
he  felt  as  if  he  never  would  be  able  to  keep  up; 
then  it  seemed  as  if  he  never  would  get  down 
again.  For  with  wings  it  is  almost  easier  to  rise 
than  to  fall,  and  a  first  flight  is,  before  anything 
else,  a  series  of  vivid  and  audacious  surprises. 

For  a  long  time  Jimbo  was  so  dizzy  with  excite- 
ment and  the  novelty  of  the  sensation  that  he  forgot 
his  deliverer  altogether. 

And  what  a  flight  it  was!  Instead  of  the  steady 
race  of  the  carrier  pigeon,  or  of  the  rooks  homeward 
bound  at  evening,  it  was  the  see-saw  motion  of  the 
wren's  swinging  journey  across  the  lawn;  only 
heavier,  faster,  and  with  more  terrific  impetus.  Up 
and  down,  each  time  with  a  rise  and  fall  of  twenty 
feet,  he  careered,  whistling  through  the  summer 

123 


124  Jimbo  CHAP. 

night;  at  the  drop  of  each  curve  so  low  that  the 
scents  of  dewy  grass  rose  into  his  face;  at  the  crest 
of  it,  so  high  that  the  trees  and  hedges  often  became 
mere  blots  upon  the  dark  surface  of  the  earth. 

The  fields  rushed  by  beneath  him;  the  white 
roads  flashed  past  like  streaks  of  snow.  Sometimes 
he  shot  across  sheets  of  water  and  felt  the  cooler  air 
strike  his  cheeks;  sometimes  over  sheltered  meadows, 
where  the,  sunshine  had  slept  all  day  and  the  air  was 
still  soft  and  warm;  on  and  on,  as  easily  as  rain 
dropping  from  the  sky,  or  wind  rushing  earthwards 
from  between  the  clouds.  Everything  flew  past 
him  at  an  astonishing  rate  —  everything  but  the 
bright  stars  that  gazed  calmly  down  overhead;  and 
when  he  looked  up  and  saw  their  steadfastness  it 
helped  to  keep  within  bounds  the  fine  alarm  of  this 
first  excursion  into  the  great  vault  of  the  sky. 

"Gently,  child!"  gasped  Miss  Lake  behind  him. 
"We  shall  never  keep  it  up  at  this  rate." 

"Oh!  but  it's  so  wonderful,"  he  cried,  drawing 
in  the  air  loudly  between  his  teeth,  and  shaking  his 
wings  rapidly  like  a  hawk  before  it  drops. 

The  pace  slackened  a  little  and  the  girl  drew  up 
alongside.  For  some  time  they  flew  forward  to- 
gether in  silence. 

They  had  been  skirting  the  edge  of  a  wood, 
when  suddenly  the  trees  fell  away  and  Jimbo  gave 
a  scream  and  rose  fifty  feet  into  the  air  with  a  single 


xi  The  First  Flight  125 

bound.  Straight  in  front  of  him  loomed  an  immense, 
glaring  disk  that  seemed  to  swim  suddenly  up  into 
the  sky  above  the  trees.  It  hung  there  before  his 
eyes  and  dazzled  him. 

"It's  only  the  moon,"  cried  Miss  Lake  from 
below. 

Jimbo  dropped  through  the  air  to  her  side  again 
with  a  gasp. 

"I  thought  it  was  a  big  hole  in  the  sky  with  fire 
rushing  through,"  he  explained  breathlessly. 

The  boy  stared,  full  of  wonder  and  delight,  at 
the  huge  flaming  circle  that  seemed  to  fill  half  the 
heavens  in  front  of  him. 

"Look  out!"  cried  the  governess,  seizing  his 
hand. 

Whish!  whew!  whirr!  A  large  bird  whipped 
past  them  like  some  winged  imp  of  darkness, 
vanishing  among  the  trees  far  below.  There  would 
certainly  have  been  a  collision  but  for  the  girl's 
energetic  interference. 

"You  must  be  on  the  lookout  for  these  night- 
birds,"  she  said.  "They  fly  so  unexpectedly,  and, 
of  course,  they  don't  see  us  properly.  Telegraph 
wires  and  church  steeples  are  bad,  too,  but  then  we 
shan't  fly  over  cities  much.  Keep  a  good  height;  it's 
safer." 

They  altered  their  course  a  little,  flying  at  a 
different  angle,  so  that  the  moon  no  longer  dazzled 


126  Jimbo  CHAP. 

them.  Steering  came  quite  easily  by  turning  the 
body,  and  Jimbo  still  led  the  way,  the  governess 
following  heavily  and  with  a  mighty  business  of 
wings  and  napping. 

It  was  something  to  remember,  the  glory  of  that 
first  journey  through  the  air.  Sixty  miles  an  hour, 
and  scarcely  an  effort!  Skimming  the  long  ridges 
of  the  hills  and  rushing  through  the  pure  air  of 
mountain  tops;  threading  the  star  beams;  bathing 
themselves  from  head  to  foot  in  an  ocean  of  cool, 
clean  wind;  swimming  on  the  waves  of  viewless 
currents  —  currents  warmed  only  by  the  magic  of 
the  stars,  and  kissed  by  the  burning  lips  of  flying 
meteors. 

Far  below  them  the  moonlight  touched  the  fields 
with  silver  and  the  murmur  of  the  world  rose 
faintly  to  their  ears,  trembling,  as  it  were,  with  the 
inarticulate  dreams  of  millions.  Everywhere  about 
them  thrilled  and  sang  the  unspeakable  power  of  the 
night.  The  mystery  of  its  great  heart  seemed  laid 
bare  before  them. 

It  was  like  a  wonder-journey  in  some  Eastern 
fairy  tale.  Sometimes  they  passed  through  zones 
of  sweeter  air,  perfumed  with  the  scents  of  hay 
and  wild  flowers;  at  others,  the  fresh,  damp  odour 
of  ploughed  fields  rose  up  to  them;  or,  again,  they 
went  spinning  over  leagues  of  forest  where  the  tree- 
tops  stretched  beneath  them  like  the  surface  of  a 


xi  The  First  Flight  127 

wide,  green  sea,  sleeping  in  the  moonlight.  And, 
when  they  crossed  open  water,  the  stars  shone 
reflected  in  their  faces;  and  all  the  while  the  wings, 
whirring  and  purring  softly  through  the  darkness, 
made  pleasant  music  in  their  ears. 

"I'm  tired,"  declared  Jimbo  presently. 

"Then  we'll  go  down  and  rest,"  said  his  breath- 
less companion  with  obvious  relief. 

She  showed  him  how  to  spread  his  wings,  sloping 
them  towards  the  ground  at  an  angle  that  enabled 
him  to  shoot  rapidly  downwards,  at  the  same  time 
regulating  his  speed  by  the  least  upward  tilt.  It 
was  a  glorious  motion,  without  effort  or  difficulty, 
though  the  pace  made  it  hard  to  keep  the  eyes  open, 
and  breathing  became  almost  impossible.  They 
dropped  to  within  ten  feet  of  the  ground  and  then 
shot  forward  again. 

But,  while  the  boy  was  watching  his  companion's 
movements,  and  paying  too  little  attention  to  his 
own,  there  rose  suddenly  before  him  out  of  the 
ground  a  huge,  bulky  form  of  something  —  and 
crash  —  he  flew  headlong  into  it. 

Fortunately  it  was  only  a  haystack;  but  the  speed 
at  which  he  was  going  lodged  his  head  several 
inches  under  the  thatch,  whence  he  projected  hori- 
zontally into  space,  feet,  arms,  and  wings  gyrating 
furiously.  The  governess,  however,  soon  released 
him  with  much  laughter,  and  they  dropped  down 


128  Jimbo  CHAP. 

into  the  fallen  hay  upon  the  ground  with  no  worse 
result  than  a  shaking. 

"Oh,  what  a  lark!"  he  cried,  shaking  the  hay 
out  of  his  feathers,  and  rubbing  his  head  rather 
ruefully. 

"Except  that  larks  are  hardly  night-birds,"  she 
laughed,  helping  him. 

They  settled  with  folded  wings  in  the  shadow  of 
the  haystack;  and  the  big  moon,  peeping  over  the 
edge  at  them,  must  have  surely  wondered  to  see 
such  a  funny  couple,  in  such  a  place,  and  at  such  an 
hour. 

"Mushrooms!"  suddenly  cried  the  governess, 
springing  to  her  feet.  "There  must  be  lots  in 
this  field.  I'll  go  and  pick  some  while  you  rest  a 
bit." 

Off  she  went,  trapesing  over  the  field  in  the 
moonlight,  her  wings  folded  behind  her,  her  body 
bent  a  little  forward  as  she  searched,  and  in  ten 
minutes  she  came  back  with  her  hands  full.  That 
was  undoubtedly  the  time  to  enjoy  mushrooms  at 
their  best,  with  the  dew  still  on  their  tight  little 
jackets,  and  the  sweet  odour  of  the  earth  caught 
under  their  umbrellas. 

Soon  they  were  all  eaten,  and  Jimbo  was  lying 
back  on  a  pile  of  hay,  his  shoulders  against  the 
wall  of  the  stack,  and  his  wings  gathered  round  him 
like  a  warm  cloak  of  feathers.  He  felt  cosy  and 


xi  The  First  Flight  129 

dozy,  full  of  mushrooms  inside  and  covered  with 
hay  and  feathers  outside.  The  governess  had  once 
told  him  that  a  sort  of  open-air  sleep  sometimes 
came  after  a  long  flight.  It  was,  of  course,  not  .a 
real  sleep,  but  a  state  in  which  everything  about 
oneself  is  forgotten;  no  dreams,  no  movement,  no 
falling  asleep  and  waking  up  in  the  ordinary  sense, 
but  a  condition  of  deep  repose  in  which  recuperation 
is  very  great. 

Jimbo  would  have  been  greatly  interested,  no 
doubt,  to  know  that  his  real  body  on  the  bed  had 
also  just  been  receiving  nourishment,  and  was  now 
passing  into  a  quieter  and  less  feverish  condition. 
The  parallel  always  held  true  between  himself  and 
his  body  in  the  nursery,  but  he  could  not  know 
anything  about  this,  and  only  supposed  that  it  was 
this  open-air  sleep  that  he  felt  gently  stealing  over 
him. 

It  brought  at  first  strange  thoughts  that  carried 
him  far  away  to  other  woods  and  other  fields. 
While  Miss  Lake  sat  beside  him  eating  her  mush- 
rooms, his  mind  was  drawn  off  to  some  other  little 
folk.  But  it  was  always  stopped  just  short  of  them. 
He  never  could  quite  see  their  faces.  Yet  his 
thoughts  continued  their  search,  groping  in  the 
darkness;  he  felt  sure  he  ought  to  be  sharing  his 
adventures  with  these  other  little  persons,  whoever 
they  were;  they  ought  to  have  been  sitting  beside 


130  Jimbo  CHAP. 

him  at  that  very  moment,  eating  mushrooms, 
combing  their  wings,  comparing  the  length  of  their 
feathers,  and  snuggling  with  him  into  the  warm  hay. 

But  they  obstinately  hovered  just  outside  his 
memory,  and  refused  to  come  in  and  surrender 
themselves.  He  could  not  remember  who  they 
were,  and  his  yearnings  went  unsatisfied  up  to  the 
stars,  as  yearnings  generally  do,  while  his  thoughts 
returned  weary  from  their  search  and  he  yielded 
to  the  seductions  of  the  soothing  open-air  sleep. 

The  moon,  meanwhile,  rose  higher  and  higher, 
drawing  a  silver  veil  over  the  stars.  Upon  the 
field  the  dews  of  midnight  fell  silently.  A  faint 
mist  rose  from  the  ground  and  covered  the  flowers 
in  their  dim  seclusion  under  the  hedgerows.  The 
hours  slipped  away  silently. 

"Come  on,  Jimbo,  boy!"  cried  the  governess 
at  length.  "The  moon's  below  the  hills,  and  we 
must  be  off!" 

The  boy  turned  and  stared  sleepily  at  her  from 
his  nest  in  the  hay. 

"We've  got  miles  to  go.  Remember  the  speed  we 
came  at!"  she  explained,  getting  up  and  arranging 
her  wings. 

Jimbo  got  up  slowly  and  shook  himself. 

"I've  been  miles  away,"  he  said  dreamily,  "miles 
and  miles.  But  I'm  ready  to  start  at  once." 

They  looked  about  for  a  raised  place  to  jump 


xi  The  First  Flight  131 

from.  A  ladder  stood  against  the  other  side  of  the 
haystack.  The  governess  climbed  up  it  and  Jimbo 
followed  her  drowsily.  Hand  in  hand  they  sprang 
into  the  air  from  the  edge  of  the  thatched  roof,  and 
their  wings  spread  out  like  sails  to  catch  the  wind. 
It  smote  their  faces  pleasantly  as  they  plunged 
downwards  and  forwards,  and  the  exhilarating  rush 
of  cool  air  banished  from  the  boy's  head  the  last 
vestige  of  the  open-air  sleep. 

"We  must  keep  up  a  good  pace,"  cried  the 
governess,  taking  a  stream  and  the  hedge  beyond 
in  a  single  sweep.  "There's  a  light  in  the  east 
already." 

As  she  spoke  a  dog  howled  in  a  farmyard  beneath 
them,  and  she  shot  upwards  as  though  lifted  by  a 
sudden  gust  of  wind. 

"We're  too  low,"  she  shouted  from  above.  "That 
dog  felt  us  near.  Come  up  higher.  It's  easier 
flying,  and  we've  got  a  long  way  to  go." 

Jimbo  followed  her  up  till  they  were  several 
hundred  feet  above  the  earth  and  the  keen  air  stung 
their  cheeks.  Then  she  led  him  still  higher,  till  the 
meadows  looked  like  the  squares  on  a  chess-board 
and  the  trees  were  like  little  toy  shrubs.  Here  they 
rushed  along  at  a  tremendous  speed,  too  fast  to 
speak,  their  wings  churning  the  air  into  little  whirl- 
winds and  eddies  as  they  passed,  whizzing,  whistling, 
tearing  through  space. 


132  Jimbo  CHAP,  xi 

The  fields,  however,  were  still  dim  in  the  shadows 
that  precede  the  dawn,  and  the  stars  only  just  be- 
ginning to  fade,  when  they  saw  the  dark  outline  of 
the  Empty  House  below  them,  and  began  carefully  to 
descend.  Soon  they  topped  the  high  elm,  startling 
the  rooks  into  noisy  cawing,  and  then,  skimming  the 
wall,  sailed  stealthily  on  outspread  wings  across 
the  yard. 

Cautiously  dropping  down  to  the  level  of  the 
window,  they  crawled  over  the  sill  into  the  dark  little 
room,  and  folded  their  wings. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  FOUR  WINDS 

THE  governess  left  the  boy  to  his  own  reflections 
almost  immediately.  He  spent  the  hours  thinking 
and  resting;  going  over  again  in  his  mind  every 
incident  of  the  great  flight  and  wondering  when  the 
real,  final  escape  would  come,  and  what  it  would  be 
like.  Thus,  between  the  two  states  of  excitement 
he  forgot  for  a  while  that  he  was  still  a  prisoner,  and 
the  spell  of  horror  was  lifted  temporarily  from  his 
heart. 

The  day  passed  quickly,  and  when  Miss  Lake 
appeared  in  the  evening,  she  announced  that  there 
could  be  no  flying  again  that  night,  and  that  she 
wished  instead  to  give  him  important  instruction  for 
the  future.  There  were  rules,  and  signs,  and  times 
which  he  must  learn  carefully.  The  time  might 
come  when  he  would  have  to  fly  alone,  and  he  must 
be  prepared  for  everything. 

"  And  the  first  thing  I  have  to  tell  you,"  she  said, 
exactly  as  though  it  was  a  schoolroom,  "is:  Never 
fly  over  the  sea.  Our  kind  of  wings  quickly  absorb 
the  finer  particles  of  water  and  get  clogged  and  heavy 

133 


134  Jimbo 


CHAP. 


over  the  sea.  You  finally  cannot  resist  the  drawing 
power  of  the  water,  and  you  will  be  dragged  down 
and  drowned.  So  be  very  careful !  When  you  are 
flying  high  it  is  often  difficult  to  know  where  the 
land  ends  and  the  sea  begins,  especially  on  moonless 
nights.  But  you  can  always  be  certain  of  one  thing : 
if  there  are  no  sounds  below  you  —  horses'  hoofs, 
voices,  wheels  —  you  are  certainly  over  the  sea." 

"Yes,"  said  the  child,  listening  with  great  atten- 
tion. "And  what  else?" 

"The  next  thing  is:  Don't  fly  too  high.  Though 
we  fly  like  birds,  remember  we  are  not  birds,  and 
we  can  fly  where  they  can't.  We  can  fly  in  the 
ether " 

"Where's  that?"  he  interrupted,  half  afraid  of  the 
sound. 

She  stooped  and  kissed  him,  laughing  at  his  fear. 

"There's  nothing  to  be  frightened  about,"  she 
explained.  "The  air  gets  lighter  and  lighter  as  you 
go  higher,  till  at  last  it  stops  altogether.  Then 
there's  only  ether  left.  Birds  can't  fly  in  ether 
because  it's  too  thin.  We  can,  because " 

"Is  that  why  it  was  good  for  me  to  get  lighter 
and  thinner?"  he  interrupted  again  in  a  puzzled 
voice. 

"Partly,  yes." 

"And  what  happens  in  the  ether,  please?"  It 
still  frightened  him  a  little. 


xii  The  Four  Winds  135 

"Nothing  —  except  that  if  you  fly  too  high  you 
reach  a  point  where  the  earth  ceases  to  hold  you,  and 
you  dash  off  into  space.  Weight  leaves  you  then, 
and  the  wings  move  without  effort.  Faster  and 
faster  you  rush  upwards,  till  you  lose  all  control  of 
your  movements,  and  then " 

Miss  Lake  hesitated  a  moment. 

"And  then  —  ?"  asked  the  fascinated  child. 

"You  may  never  come  down  again,"  she  said 
slowly.  "You  may  be  sucked  into  anything  that 
happens  to  come  your  way  —  a  comet,  or  a  shooting 
star,  or  the  moon." 

"I  should  like  a  shooting  star  best,"  observed  the 
boy,  deeply  interested.  "The  moon  frightens  me,  I 
think.  It  looks  so  dreadfully  clean." 

"You  won't  like  any  of  them  when  the  time 
comes,"  she  laughed.  "No  one  ever  gets  out  again 
who  once  gets  in.  But  you'll  never  be  caught  that 
way  after  what  I've  told  you,"  she  added,  with 
decision. 

"I  shall  never  want  to  fly  as  high  as  that,  I'm 
sure,"  said  Jimbo.  "And  now,  please,  what  comes 
next?" 

The  next  thing,  she  went  on  to  explain,  was  the 
weather,  which,  to  all  flying  creatures,  was  of  the 
utmost  importance.  Before  starting  for  a  flight  he 
must  always  carefully  consider  the  state  of  the  sky, 
and  the  direction  in  which  he  wished  to  go.  For 


136  Jimbo  CHAP. 

this  purpose  he  must  master  the  meaning  and 
character  of  the  Four  Winds  and  be  able  to  recog- 
nise them  in  a  moment. 

"Once  you  know  these,"  she  said,  "you  cannot 
possibly  go  wrong.  To  make  it  easier,  I've  put 
each  Wind  into  a  little  simple  rhyme  for  you." 

"I'm  listening,"  he  said  eagerly. 

"The  North  Wind  is  one  of  the  worst  and  most 
dangerous,  because  it  blows  so  much  faster  than  you 
think.  It's  taken  you  ten  miles  before  you  think 
you've  gone  two.  In  starting  with  a  North  Wind, 
always  fly  against  it;  then  it  will  bring  you  home 
easily.  If  you  fly  with  it,  you  may  be  swept  so  far 
that  the  day  will  catch  you  before  you  can  get  home ; 
and  then  you're  as  good  as  lost.  Even  birds  fly 
warily  when  this  wind  is  about.  It  has  no  lulls  or 
resting-places  in  it;  it  blows  steadily  on  and  on, 
and  conquers  everything  it  comes  against  —  every- 
thing except  the  mountains." 

"And  its  rhyme?"   asked  Jimbo,   all  ears. 

It  will  show  you  the  joy  of  the  birds,  my  child, 
You  shall  know  their  terrible  bliss; 
It  will  teach  you  to  hide,  when  the  night  is  wild, 
From  the  storm's  too  passionate  kiss. 

For  the  Wind  of  the  North 

Is  a  volleying  forth 

That  will  lift  you  with  springs 

In  the  heart  of  your  wings, 


xn  The  Four  Winds  137 

And  may  sweep  you  away 

To  the  edge  of  the  day. 

So,  beware  of  the  Wind  of  the  North,  my  child, 
Fly  not  with  the  Wind  of  the  North ! 

"I  think  I  like  him  all  the  same,"  said  Jimbo. 
"But  I'll  remember  always  to  fly  against  him." 

"The  East  Wind  is  worse  still,  for  it  hurts," 
continued  the  governess.  "It  stings  and  cuts.  It's 
like  the  breath  of  an  ice-creature ;  it  brings  hail  and 
sleet  and  cold  rain  that  beat  down  wings  and  blind 
the  eyes.  Like  the  North  Wind,  too,  it  is  dread- 
fully swift  and  full  of  little  whirlwinds,  and  may 
easily  carry  you  into  the  light  of  day  that  would 
prove  your  destruction.  Avoid  it  always;  no 
hiding-place  is  safe  from  it.  This  is  the  rhyme: 

It  will  teach  you  the  secrets  the  eagles  know 
Of  the  tempests'  and  whirlwinds'  birth ; 
And  the  magical  weaving  of  rain  and  snow 
As  they  fall  from  the  sky  to  the  earth. 

But  an  Easterly  wind 

Is  for  ever  unkind ; 

It  will  torture  and  twist  you 

And  never  assist  you, 

But  will  drive  you  with  might 

To  the  verge  of  the  night. 
So,  beware  of  the  Wind  of  the  East,  my  child, 
Fly  not  with  the  Wind  of  the  East ! 

"The  West  Wind  is  really  a  very  nice  and  jolly 
wind  in  itself,"  she  went  on,  "but  it's  dangerous  for 


138  Jimbo 


CHAP. 


a  special  reason:  it  will  carry  you  out  to  sea.  The 
Empty  House  is  only  a  few  miles  from  the  coast, 
and  a  strong  West  Wind  would  take  you  there  almost 
before  you  had  time  to  get  down  to  earth  again. 
And  there's  no  use  struggling  against  a  really  steady 
West  Wind,  for  it's  simply  tireless.  Luckily,  it 
rarely  blows  at  night,  but  goes  down  with  the  sun. 
Often,  too,  it  blows  hard  to  the  coast,  and  then  drops 
suddenly,  leaving  you  among  the  fogs  and  mists  of 
the  sea." 

"Rather  a  nice,  exciting  sort  of  wind,"  remarked 
Jimbo,  waiting  for  the  rhyme. 

So,  at  last,  you  shall  know  from  their  lightest  breath 
To  which  heaven  each  wind  belongs ; 
And  shall  master  their  meaning  for  life  or  death 
By  the  shout  of  their  splendid  songs. 

For  the  Wind  of  the  West 

Is  a  wind  unblest ; 

It  is  lifted  and  kissed 

By  the  spirits  of  mist ; 

It  will  clasp  you  and  flee 

To  the  wastes  of  the  sea. 
So,  beware  of  the  Wind  of  the  West,  my  child, 
Fly  not  with  the  Wind  of  the  West  I 

"  A  jolly  wind,"  observed  Jimbo  again.  "  But  that 
doesn't  leave  much  over  to  fly  with,"  he  added  sadly. 
"They  all  seem  dangerous  or  cruel." 

"Yes,"  she  laughed,  "and  so  they  are  till  you  can 
master  them  —  then  they're  kind.  The  only  one 


XH  The  Four  Winds  139 

that's  really  always  safe  and  kind  is  the  Wind  of  the 
South.  It's  a  sweet,  gentle  wind,  beloved  of  all  that 
flies,  and  you  can't  possibly  mistake  it.  You  can 
tell  it  at  once  by  the  murmuring  way  it  stirs  the 
grasses  and  the  tops  of  the  trees.  Its  taste  is  soft 
and  sweet  in  the  mouth  like  wine,  and  there's  always 
a  faint  perfume  about  it  like  gardens  in  summer. 
It  is  the  joy  of  this  wind  that  makes  all  flying  things 
sing.  With  a  South  Wind  you  can  go  anywhere 
and  no  harm  can  come  to  you." 

"Dear  old  South  Wind!"  cried  Jimbo,  rubbing 
his  hands  with  delight.  "I  hope  it  will  blow  soon." 

"Its  rhyme  is  very  easy,  too,  though  you  will 
always  be  able  to  tell  it  without  that,"  she 
added. 

For  this  is  the  favourite  Wind  of  all, 

Beloved  of  the  stars  and  night ; 
In  the  rustle  of  leaves  you  shall  hear  it  call 

To  the  passionate  joys  of  flight. 
It  will  carry  you  forth  in  its  wonderful  hair 

To  the  far-away  courts  of  the  sky, 
And  the  breath  of  its  lips  is  a  murmuring  prayer 
For  the  safety  of  all  who  fly. 
For  the  Wind  of  the  South 
Is  like  wine  in  the  mouth, 
With  its  whispering  showers 
And  perfume  of  flowers, 
When  it  falls  like  a  sigh 
From  the  heart  of  the  sky. 


140  Jimbo  CHAP. 

"Oh!"  interrupted  Jimbo,  rubbing  his  hands, 
"that  is  nice.  That's  my  wind!" 

It  will  bear  you  aloft 
With  pressure  so  soft 
That  you  hardly  shall  guess 
Whose  the  gentle  caress. 

"Hooray!"  he  cried  again. 

It's  the  kindest  of  weathers 

For  our  red  feathers, 

And  blows  open  the  way 

To  the  Gardens  of  Play. 

So,  fly  out  with  the  Wind  of  the  South,  my  child, 
With  the  wonderful  Wind  of  the  South. 

"  Oh,  I  love  the  South  Wind  already ! "  he  shouted, 
clapping  his  hands  again.  "  I  hope  it  will  blow  very, 
very  soon." 

"It  may  be  rising  even  now,"  answered  the 
governess,  leading  him  to  the  window.  But,  as 
they  gazed  at  the  summer  landscape  lying  in  the 
dying  light  of  the  sunset,  all  was  still  and  resting. 
The  air  was  hushed,  the  leaves  motionless.  There 
was  no  call  just  then  to  flight  from  among  the  tree- 
tops,  and  he  went  back  into  the  room  disappointed. 

"But  why  can't  we  escape  at  once?"  he  asked 
again,  after  he  had  given  his  promise  to  remember 
all  she  had  told  him,  and  to  be  extra  careful  if  he 
ever  went  out  flying  alone. 


XH  The  Four  Winds  141 

"Jimbo,  dear,  I've  told  you  before,  it's  because 
your  body  isn't  ready  for  you  yet,"  she  answered 
patiently.  "There's  hardly  any  circulation  in  it, 
and  if  you  forced  your  way  back  now  the  shock 
might  stop  your  heart  beating  altogether.  Then 
you'd  be  really  dead,  and  escape  would  be  im- 
possible." 

The  boy  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  staring 
intently  at  her  while  she  spoke.  Something  clutched 
at  his  heart.  He  felt  his  Older  Self,  with  its  greater 
knowledge,  rising  up  out  of  the  depths  within 
him.  The  child  struggled  with  the  old  soul  for 
possession. 

"Have  you  got  any  circulation?"  he  asked  ab- 
ruptly at  length.  "  I  mean,  has  your  heart  stopped 
beating?" 

But  the  smile  called  up  by  his  words  froze  on 
her  lips.  She  crossed  to  the  window  and  stood  with 
her  back  to  the  fading  light,  avoiding  his  eyes. 

"My  case,  Jimbo,  is  a  little  different  to  yours," 
she  said  presently.  "  The  important  thing  is  to  make 
certain  about  your  escape.  Never  mind  about 
me." 

"But  escape  without  you  is  nothing,"  he  said,  the 
Older  Self  now  wholly  in  possession.  "I  simply 
wouldn't  go.  I'd  rather  stay  here  —  with  you." 

The  governess  made  no  reply,  but  she  turned  her 
back  to  the  room  and  leaned  out  of  the  window. 


142  Jimbo 


CHAP. 


Jimbo  fancied  he  heard  a  sob.  He  felt  a  great  big 
heart  swelling  up  within  his  little  body,  and  he  crossed 
over  beside  her.  For  some  minutes  they  stood  there 
in  silence,  watching  the  stars  that  were  already 
shining  faintly  in  the  sky. 

"Whatever  happens,"  he  said,  nestling  against  her, 
"I  shan't  go  from  here  without  you.  Remember 
that!" 

He  was  going  to  say  a  lot  more,  but  somehow  or 
other,  when  she  stooped  over  to  kiss  his  head  —  he 
hardly  came  up  to  her  shoulder  —  it  all  ran  suddenly 
out  of  his  mind,  and  the  little  child  dropped  back 
into  possession  again.  The  tide  of  his  thoughts  that 
seemed  about  to  rise,  fast  and  furious,  sunk  away 
completely,  leaving  his  mind  a  clean-washed  slate 
without  a  single  image;  and  presently,  without  any 
more  words,  the  governess  left  him  and  went  through 
the  trap-door  into  the  silence  and  mystery  of  the 
house  below. 

Several  hours  later,  about  the  middle  of  the 
night,  there  came  over  him  a  most  disagreeable 
sensation  of  nausea  and  dizziness.  The  ground  rose 
and  fell  beneath  his  feet,  the  walls  swam  about  side- 
ways, and  the  ceiling  slid  off  into  the  air.  It  only 
lasted  a  few  minutes,  however,  and  Jimbo  knew 
from  what  she  had  told  him  that  it  was  the  Flying 
Sickness  which  always  followed  the  first  long  flight. 

But,  about  the  same  time,  another  little  body, 


xn  The  Four  Winds  143 

lying  in  a  night-nursery  bed,  was  being  convulsed 
with  a  similar  attack;  and  the  sickness  of  the  little 
prisoner  in  the  Empty  House  had  its  parallel, 
strangely  enough,  in  the  half -tenanted  body  miles 
away  in  a  different  world. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

FLIGHT 

SINCE  the  night  when  Jimbo  had  nearly  fallen  into 
the  yard  and  risked  capture,  Fright,  the  horrible 
owner  of  the  house,  had  kept  himself  well  out  of 
the  way,  and  had  allowed  himself  to  be  neither  seen 
nor  heard. 

But  the  boy  was  not  foolish  enough  to  fall  into 
the  other  trap,  and  imagine,  therefore,  that  he  did 
not  know  what  was  going  on.  Jimbo  felt  quite 
sure  that  he  was  only  waiting  his  chance;  and  the 
governess's  avoidance  of  the  subject  tended  to  con- 
firm this  supposition. 

"  He's  disappeared  somewhere  and  taken  the  chil- 
dren with  him,"  she  declared  when  he  questioned 
her.  "  And  now  you  know  almost  as  much  as  I  do." 

"But  not  quite!"  he  laughed. 

"Enough,  though,"  she  replied.  "We  want  all 
our  energy  for  escape  when  it  comes.  Don't  bother 
about  anything  else  for  the  moment." 

During  the  day,  when  he  was  alone,  his  thoughts 
and  fancies  often  terrified  him;  but  at  night,  when 
he  was  rushing  through  the  heavens,  the  intense 

144 


CHAP,  xiii  Flight  145 

delight  of  flying  drove  all  minor  emotions  out  of 
his  consciousness,  and  he  even  forgot  his  one  great 
desire  —  to  escape.  One  night,  however,  something 
happened  that  brought  it  back  more  keenly  than 
ever. 

He  had  been  out  flying  alone,  but  had  not  gone 
far  when  he  noticed  that  an  easterly  wind  had  begun 
to  rise  and  was  blowing  steadily  behind  him.  With 
the  recent  instructions  fresh  in  his  head,  he  thought 
it  wiser  to  turn  homewards  rather  than  fight  his  way 
back  later  against  a  really  strong  wind  from  this 
quarter.  Flying  low  along  the  surface  of  the  fields 
so  as  to  avoid  its  full  force,  he  suddenly  rose  up  with 
a  good  sweep  and  settled  on  the  top  of  the  wall 
enclosing  the  yard. 

The  moonlight  lay  bright  over  everything.  His 
approach  had  been  very  quiet.  He  was  just  about 
to  sail  across  to  the  window  when  something  caught 
his  eye,  and  he  hesitated  a  moment,  and  stared. 

Something  was  moving  at  the  other  end  of  the 
courtyard. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  the  moonlight  suddenly 
grew  pale  and  ghastly;  the  night  air  turned  chilly; 
shivers  began  to  run  up  and  down  his  back. 

He  folded  his  wings  and  watched. 

At  the  end  of  the  yard  he  saw  several  figures 
moving  busily  to  and  fro  in  the  shadow  of  the  wall. 
They  were  very  small ;  but  close  beside  them  all  the 


146  Jimbo  CHAP. 

time  stood  a  much  larger  figure  which  seemed  to  be 
directing  their  movements.  There  was  no  need  to 
look  twice;  it  was  impossible  to  mistake  these 
terrible  little  people  and  their  hideous  overseer. 
Horror  rushed  over  the  boy,  and  a  wild  scream  was 
out  in  the  night  before  he  could  possibly  prevent  it. 
At  the  same  moment  a  cloud  passed  over  the  face  of 
the  moon  and  the  yard  was  shrouded  in  darkness. 

A  minute  later  the  cloud  passed  off;  but  while  it 
was  still  too  dark  to  see  clearly,  Jimbo  was  conscious 
of  a  rushing,  whispering  sound  in  the  air,  and  some- 
thing went  past  him  at  a  tremendous  pace  into  the 
sky.  The  wind  stirred  his  hair  as  it  passed,  and  a 
moment  later  he  heard  voices  far  away  in  the 
distance  —  up  in  the  sky  or  within  the  house,  he  could 
not  tell  —  singing  mournfully  the  song  he  now  knew 
so  well: 

We  dance  with  phantoms  and  with  shadows  play. 

But  when  he  looked  down  at  the  yard  he  saw  that 
it  was  deserted,  and  the  corner  by  the  little  upright 
stones  lay  in  the  clear  moonlight,  empty  of  figures, 
large  or  small. 

Shivering  with  fright,  he  flew  across  to  the 
window-ledge,  and  almost  tumbled  into  the  arms 
of  the  governess,  who  was  standing  close  inside. 

" What's  the  matter,  child?"  she  asked  in  a  voice 
that  trembled  a  little. 


xm  Flight  147 

And,  still  shuddering,  he  told  her  how  he  thought 
he  had  seen  the  children  working  by  the  gravestones. 
All  her  efforts  to  calm  him  at  first  failed,  but  after  a 
bit  she  drew  his  thoughts  to  pleasanter  things,  and 
he  was  not  so  certain  after  all  that  he  had  not  been 
deceived  by  the  cunning  of  the  moonlight  and  the 
shadows. 

A  long  interval  passed,  and  no  further  sign  was 
given  by  the  owner  of  the  house  or  his  band  of 
Frightened  Children.  Jimbo  soon  lost  himself  again 
in  the  delights  of  flying  and  the  joy  of  his  increasing 
powers. 

Most  of  all  he  enjoyed  the  quiet,  starlit  nights 
before  the  moon  was  up;  for  the  moon  dazzled  the 
eyes  in  the  rarefied  air  where  they  flew,  whereas  the 
stars  gave  just  enough  light  to  steer  by  without 
making  it  uncomfortable. 

Moreover,  the  moon  often  filled  him  with  a  kind 
of  faint  terror,  as  of  death;  he  could  never  gaze  at 
her  white  face  for  long  without  feeling  that  some- 
thing entered  his  heart  with  those  silver  rays  — 
something  that  boded  him  no  good.  He  never 
spoke  of  this  to  the  governess;  indeed,  he  only 
recognised  it  himself  when  the  moon  was  near  the 
full;  but  it  lay  always  in  the  depths  of  his  being, 
and  he  felt  dimly  that  it  would  have  to  be  reckoned 
with  before  he  could  really  escape  for  good.  He 
took  no  liberties  when  the  moon  was  at  the  full. 


148  Jimbo  CHAP. 

He  loved  to  hover  —  for  he  had  learned  by  this 
time  that  most  difficult  of  all  flying  feats ;  to  hold  the 
body  vertical  and  whirr  the  wings  without  rising  or 
advancing  —  he  loved  to  hover  on  windless  nights 
over  ponds  and  rivers  and  see  the  stars  reflected  in 
their  still  pools.  Indeed,  sometimes  he  hovered  till 
he  dropped,  and  only  saved  himself  from  a  wetting 
by  sweeping  up  in  a  tremendous  curve  along  the 
surface  of  the  water,  and  thus  up  into  the  branches  of 
the  trees  where  the  governess  sat  waiting  for  him. 
And  then,  after  a  little  rest,  they  would  launch  forth 
again  and  fly  over  fields  and  woods,  sometimes  even 
as  far  as  the  hills  that  ran  down  the  coast  of  the  sea 
itself. 

They  usually  flew  at  a  height  of  about  a  thousand 
feet,  and  the  earth  passed  beneath  them  like  a  great 
streaked  shadow.  But  as  soon  as  the  moon  was  up 
the  whole  country  turned  into  a  fairyland  of  wonder. 
Her  light  touched  the  woods  with  a  softened  magic, 
and  the  fields  and  hedges  became  frosted  most 
delicately.  Beneath  a  thin  transparency  of  mist  the 
water  shone  with  a  silvery  brilliance  that  always 
enabled  them  to  distinguish  it  from  the  land  at  any 
height;  while  the  farms  and  country  houses  were 
swathed  in  tender  grey  shadows  through  which  the 
trees  and  chimneys  pierced  in  slender  lines  of  black. 
It  was  wonderful  to  watch  the  shadows  everywhere 
spinning  their  blue  veil  of  distance  that  lent  even  to 


xin  Flight  149 

the  commonest  objects  something  of  enchantment 
and  mystery. 

Those  were  wonderful  journeys  they  made  to- 
gether into  the  pathways  of  the  silent  night,  along 
the  unknown  courses,  into  that  hushed  centre  where 
they  could  almost  hear  the  beatings  of  her  great 
heart  —  like  winged  thoughts  searching  the  huge 
vault  till  the  boy  ached  with  the  sensations  of  speed 
and  distance,  and  the  old  yellow  moon  seemed  to 
stagger  across  the  sky. 

Sometimes  they  rose  very  high  into  freezing  air, 
so  high  that  the  earth  became  a  dull  shadow  specked 
with  light.  They  saw  the  trains  running  in  all 
directions  with  thin  threads  of  smoke  shining  in  the 
glare  of  the  open  fire-boxes.  But  they  seemed  very 
tiny  trains  indeed,  and  stirred  in  him  no  recollections 
of  the  semiannual  visits  to  London  town  when  he 
went  to  the  dentist,  and  lunched  with  the  dreaded 
grandmother  or  the  stiff  and  fashionable  aunts. 

And  when  they  came  down  again  from  these 
perilous  heights,  the  scents  of  the  earth  rose  to  meet 
them,  the  perfume  of  woods  and  fields,  and  the 
smells  of  the  open  country. 

There  was,  too,  the  delight,  the  curious  delight 
of  windy  nights,  when  the  wind  smote  and  buffeted 
them,  knocking  them  suddenly  sideways,  whistling 
through  their  feathers  as  if  it  wanted  to  tear  them 
from  their  sockets;  rushing  furiously  up  underneath 


1 50  Jimbo  CHAP. 

their  wings  with  repeated  blows ;  turning  them 
round,  and  backwards  and  forwards,  washing  them 
from  head  to  foot  in  a  tempestuous  sea  of  rapid  and 
unexpected  motion. 

It  was,  of  course,  far  easier  to  fly  with  a  wind 
than  without  one.  The  difficulty  with  a  violent 
wind  was  to  get  down  —  not  to  keep  up.  The  gusts 
drove  up  against  the  under  surfaces  of  their  wings 
and  kept  them  afloat,  so  that  by  merely  spreading 
them  like  sails  they  could  sweep  and  circle  without 
a  single  stroke.  Jimbo  soon  learned  to  manoeuvre 
so  that  he  could  turn  the  strength  of  a  great  wind  to 
his  own  purposes,  and  revel  in  its  boisterous  waves 
and  currents  like  a  strong  swimmer  in  a  rough  sea. 

And  to  listen  to  the  wind  as  it  swept  backwards 
and  forwards  over  the  surface  of  the  earth  below 
was  another  pleasure;  for  everything  it  touched 
gave  out  a  definite  note.  He  soon  got  to  know  the 
long  sad  cry  from  the  willows,  and  the  little  whisper- 
ing in  the  tops  of  the  poplar  trees;  the  crisp,  silvery 
rattle  of  the  birches,  and  the  deep  roar  from  oaks 
and  beech  woods.  The  sound  of  a  forest  was  like 
the  shouting  of  the  sea. 

But  far  more  lovely,  when  they  descended  a  little, 
and  the  wind  was  more  gentle,  were  the  whispers 
among  the  reeds  and  the  little  wayward  murmurs 
under  the  hedgerows. 

The  pine  trees,  however,  drew  them  most,  with 


xm  Flight  151 

their  weird  voices,  now  fax  away,  now  near,  rising 
upwards  with  a  wind  of  sighs. 

There  was  a  grove  of  these  trees  that  trooped 
down  to  the  waters  of  a  little  lake  in  the  hills,  and 
to  this  spot  they  often  flew  when  the  wind  was  low 
and  the  music  likely,  therefore,  to  be  to  their  taste. 
But,  even  when  there  was  no  perceptible  wind,  these 
trees  seemed  always  full  of  mysterious,  mournful 
whisperings;  for  their  branches  held  soft  music  that 
never  quite  died  away,  even  when  all  other  trees 
were  silent  and  motionless. 

Besides  these  special  expeditions  they  flew  every- 
where and  anywhere.  They  visited  the  birds  in 
their  nests  in  lofty  trees,  and  exchanged  the  time  of 
night  with  wise-eyed  owls  staring  out  upon  them 
from  the  ivy.  They  hovered  up  the  face  of  great 
cliffs,  and  passed  the  hawks  asleep  on  perilous  ledges; 
skimmed  over  lonely  marshes,  frightening  the  water- 
birds  paddling  in  and  out  among  the  reeds.  They 
followed  the  windings  of  streams,  singing  among 
the  meadows,  and  flew  along  the  wet  sands  as  they 
watched  the  moon  rise  out  of  the  sea. 

These  flights  were  unadulterated  pleasure,  and 
Jimbo  thought  he  could  never  have  enough  of  them. 

He  soon  began  to  notice,  too,  that  the  trees 
emanated  something  that  affected  his  own  condition. 
When  he  sat  in  their  branches  this  was  very  notice- 
able. Currents  of  force  passed  from  them  into 


152  Jimbo 


CHAP. 


himself.  And  even  when  he  flew  over  their  crests 
he  was  aware  that  some  woods  exhaled  vigorous, 
life-giving  forces,  while  others  tired  and  depleted 
him.  Nothing  was  visible  actually,  but  fine  waves 
seemed  to  beat  up  against  his  eyes  and  thoughts, 
making  him  stronger  or  weaker,  happy  or  melan- 
choly, full  of  hope  and  courage,  or  listless  and  indif- 
ferent. 

These  emanations  of  the  trees  —  this  giving  forth 
of  their  own  personal  forces  —  were,  of  course,  very 
varied  in  strength  and  character.  Oaks  and  pines 
were  the  best  combination.  He  found,  before  the 
stress  of  a  long  flight,  the  former  giving  him  steadi- 
ness, and  the  latter  steely  endurance  and  the  power 
to  steer  in  sinuous,  swift  curves,  without  taking 
thought  or  trouble. 

Other  trees  gave  other  powers.  All  gave  some- 
thing. It  was  impossible  to  sit  among  their  branches 
without  absorbing  some  of  the  subtle  and  exhilarating 
tree-life.  He  soon  learned  how  to  gather  it  all  into 
himself,  and  turn  it  to  account  in  his  own  being. 

"Sit  quietly,"  the  governess  said.  "Let  the  forces 
creep  in  and  stir  about.  Do  nothing  yourself. 
Give  them  time  to  become  part  of  yourself,  and 
mix  properly  with  your  own  currents.  Effort  on 
your  part  prevents  this,  and  you  weaken  them 
without  gaining  anything  yourself." 

Jimbo  made  all  sorts  of  experiments  with  trees 


xiii  Flight  153 

and  rocks  and  water  and  fields,  learning  gradually 
the  different  qualities  of  force  they  gave  forth,  and 
how  to  use  them  for  himself.  Nothing,  he  found, 
was  really  dead.  And  sometimes  he  got  himself 
into  strange  difficulties  in  the  beginning  of  his 
attempts  to  master  and  absorb  these  nature-forces. 

"Remember,"  the  governess  warned  him  more 
than  once,  when  he  was  inclined  to  play  tricks,  "they 
are  in  quite  a  different  world  to  ours.  You  cannot 
take  liberties  with  them.  Even  a  sympathetic  soul 
like  yourself  only  touches  the  fringe  of  their  world. 
You  exchange  surface  messages  with  them,  nothing 
more.  Some  trees  have  terrible  forces  just  below 
the  surface.  They  could  extinguish  you  altogether 
—  absorb  you  into  themselves.  Others  are  naturally 
hostile.  Some  are  mere  tricksters.  Others  are 
shifty  and  treacherous,  like  the  hollies,  that  move 
about  too  much.  The  oak  and  the  pine  and  the 
elm  are  friendly,  and  you  can  always  trust  them 
absolutely.  But  there  are  others !" 

She  held  up  a  warning  finger,  and  Jimbo's  eyes 
nearly  dropped  out  of  his  head. 

"No,"  she  added,  in  reply  to  his  questions,  "you 

can't  learn  all  this  at  once.  Perhaps "  She 

hesitated  a  little.  "Perhaps,  if  you  don't  escape,  we 
should  have  time  for  all  manner  of  adventures  among 

the  trees  and  other  things But  then,  we  are 

going  to  escape,  so  there's  no  good  wasting  time 


CHAPTER  XIV 

AN  ADVENTURE 

BUT  Miss  Lake  did  not  always  accompany  him  on 
these  excursions  into  the  night;  sometimes  he  took 
long  flights  by  himself,  and  she  rather  encouraged 
him  in  this,  saying  it  would  give  him  confidence  in 
case  he  ever  lost  her  and  was  obliged  to  find  his 
way  about  alone. 

"But  I  couldn't  get  really  lost,"  he  said  once  to 
her.  "I  know  the  winds  perfectly  now  and  the 
country  round  for  miles,  and  I  never  go  out  in 
fog " 

"But  these  are  only  practice  flights,"  she  replied. 
"The  flight  of  escape  is  a  very  different  matter.  I 
want  you  to  learn  all  you  possibly  can  so  as  to  be 
prepared  for  anything." 

Jimbo  felt  vaguely  uncomfortable  when  she  talked 
like  this. 

"But  you'll  be  with  me  in  the  escape  flight  — 
the  final  one  of  all,"  he  said;  "and  nothing  ever 
goes  wrong  when  you're  with  me." 

"I   should   like   to   be   always   with   you,"    she 


CHAP,  xiv  An  Adventure  155 

answered  tenderly,  "but  it's  well  to  be  prepared  for 
anything  just  the  same." 

And  more  than  this  the  boy  could  never  get  out 
of  her. 

On  one  of  these  lonely  flights,  however,  he  made 
the  unpleasant  discovery  that  he  was  being  followed. 

At  first  he  only  imagined  there  was  somebody 
after  him  because  of  the  curious  vibrations  of  the 
very  rarefied  air  in  which  he  flew.  Every  time  his 
flight  slackened  and  the  noise  of  his  own  wings  grew 
less,  there  reached  him  from  some  other  corner  of 
the  sky  a  sound  like  the  vibrations  of  large  wings 
beating  the  air.  It  seemed  behind,  and  generally 
below  him,  but  the  swishing  of  his  own  feathers 
made  it  difficult  to  hear  with  distinctness,  or  to  be 
certain  of  the  direction. 

Evidently  it  was  a  long  way  off;  but  now  and 
again,  when  he  took  a  spurt  and  then  sailed  silently 
for  several  minutes  on  outstretched  wings,  the  beating 
of  distant,  following  feathers  seemed  unmistakably 
clear,  and  he  raced  on  again  at  full  speed  more  than 
terrified.  Other  times,  however,  when  he  tried  to 
listen,  there  was  no  trace  of  this  other  flyer,  and 
then  his  fear  would  disappear,  and  he  would  persuade 
himself  that  it  had  been  imagination.  So  much 
on  these  flights  he  knew  to  be  imagination  —  the 
sentences,  voices,  and  laughter,  for  instance,  that 
filled  the  air  and  sounded  so  real,  yet  were  actually 


156  Jimbo 


CHAP. 


caused  by  the  wind  rushing  past  his  ears,  the  rhythm 
of  the  wing-beats,  and  the  tips  of  the  feathers 
occasionally  rubbing  against  the  sides  of  his  body. 

But  at  last  one  night  the  suspicion  that  he  was 
followed  became  a  certainty. 

He  was  flying  far  up  in  the  sky,  passing  over 
some  big  city,  when  the  sound  rose  to  his  ears, 
and  he  paused,  sailing  on  stretched  wings,  to  listen. 
Looking  down  into  the  immense  space  below,  he 
saw,  plainly  outlined  against  the  luminous  patch 
above  the  city,  the  form  of  a  large  flying  creature 
moving  by  with  rapid  strokes.  The  pulsations  of 
its  great  wings  made  the  air  tremble  so  that  he  both 
heard  and  felt  them.  It  may  have  been  that  the 
vapours  of  the  city  distorted  the  thing,  just  as  the 
earth's  atmosphere  magnifies  the  rising  or  setting  of 
the  moon;  but,  even  so,  it  was  easy  to  see  that  it 
was  something  a  good  deal  larger  than  himself,  and 
with  a  much  more  powerful  flight. 

Fortunately,  it  did  not  seem  this  time  to  be 
actually  on  his  trail,  for  it  swept  by  at  a  great 
pace,  and  was  soon  lost  in  the  darkness  far  ahead. 
Perhaps  it  was  only  searching  for  him,  and  his  great 
height  had  proved  his  safety.  But  in  any  case  he 
was  exceedingly  terrified,  and  at  once  turned  round, 
pointed  his  head  for  the  earth,  and  shot  downwards 
in  the  direction  of  the  Empty  House  as  fast  as  ever 
he  could. 


XIV 


An  Adventure  157 


But  when  he  spoke  to  the  governess  she  made 
light  of  it,  and  told  him  there  was  nothing  to  be 
afraid  of.  It  might  have  been  a  flock  of  hurrying 
night-birds,  she  said,  or  an  owl  distorted  by  the 
city's  light,  or  even  his  own  reflection  magnified  in 
water.  Anyhow,  she  felt  sure  it  was  not  chasing 
him,  and  he  need  pay  no  attention  to  it. 

Jimbo  felt  reassured,  but  not  quite  satisfied.  He 
knew  a  flying  monster  when  he  saw  one;  and  it  was 
only  when  he  had  been  for  many  more  flights  alone, 
without  its  reappearance,  that  his  confidence  was 
fully  restored,  and  he  began  to  forget  about  it. 

Certainly  these  lonely  flights  were  very  much  to 
his  taste.  His  Older  Self,  with  its  dim  hauntings 
of  a  great  memory  somewhere  behind  him,  took 
possession  then,  and  he  was  able  to  commune  with 
nature  in  a  way  that  the  presence  of  the  governess 
made  impossible.  With  her  his  Older  Self  rarely 
showed  itself  above  the  surface  for  long;  he  was 
always  the  child.  But,  when  alone,  nature  became 
alive;  he  drew  force  from  the  trees  and  flowers,  and 
felt  that  they  all  shared  a  common  life  together. 
Had  he  been  imprisoned  by  some  wizard  of  old  in  a 
tree  form,  knowing  of  the  sunset  and  the  dawn  only 
by  the  sweet  messages  that  rustled  in  his  branches, 
the  wind  could  hardly  have  spoken  to  him  with  a 
more  intimate  meaning;  or  the  life  of  the  fields, 
eternally  patient,  have  touched  him  more  nearly 


158  Jimbo  CHAP. 

with  their  joys  and  sorrows.  It  seemed  almost  as  if, 
from  his  leafy  cell,  he  had  gazed  before  this  into  the 
shining  pools  with  which  the  summer  rains  jew- 
elled the  meadows,  sending  his  soul  in  a  stream  of 
unsatisfied  yearning  up  to  the  stars.  It  all  came 
back  dimly  when  he  heard  the  wind  among  the 
leaves,  and  carried  him  off  to  the  woods  and  fields 
of  an  existence  far  antedating  this  one 

And  on  gentle  nights,  when  the  wind  itself  was 
half  asleep  and  dreaming,  the  pine  trees  drew  him 
most  of  all,  for  theirs  was  the  song  he  loved  above 
all  others.  He  would  fly  round  and  round  the 
little  grove  by  the  mountain  lake,  listening  for  hours 
together  to  their  sighing  voices.  But  the  governess 
was  never  told  of  this,  whatever  she  may  have 
guessed;  for  it  seemed  to  him  a  joy  too  deep  for 
words,  the  pains  and  sweetness  being  mingled  too 
mysteriously  for  him  ever  to  express  in  awkward 
sentences.  Moreover,  it  all  passed  away  and  was 
forgotten  the  moment  the  child  took  possession  and 
usurped  the  older  memory. 

One  night,  when  the  moon  was  high  and  the  air 
was  cool  and  fragrant  after  the  heat  of  the  day, 
Jimbo  felt  a  strong  desire  to  get  off  by  himself  for 
a  long  flight.  He  was  full  of  energy,  and  the  space- 
craving  cried  to  be  satisfied.  For  several  days  he 
had  been  content  with  slow,  stupid  expeditions  with 
the  governess. 


XIV 


An  Adventure  159 


"I'm  off  alone  to-night,"  he  cried,  balancing  on 
the  window-ledge,  "but  I'll  be  back  before  dawn. 
Good-bye!" 

She  kissed  him,  as  she  always  did  now,  and  with 
her  good-bye  ringing  in  his  ears,  he  dropped  from 
the  window  and  rose  rapidly  over  the  elms  and  away 
from  earth. 

This  night,  for  some  reason,  the  stars  and  the 
moon  seemed  to  draw  him,  and  with  tireless  wings 
he  mounted  up,  up,  up,  to  a  height  he  had  never 
reached  before.  The  intoxication  of  the  strong 
night  air  rose  into  his  brain,  and  he  dashed  forward 
ever  faster,  with  a  mad  delight,  into  the  endless 
space  before  him. 

Mile  upon  mile  lay  behind  him  as  he  rushed 
onwards,  always  pointing  a  little  on  the  upward 
slope,  drunk  with  speed.  The  earth  faded  away  to 
a  dark  expanse  of  shadow  beneath  him,  and  he  no 
longer  was  conscious  of  the  deep  murmur  that 
usually  flowed  steadily  upwards  from  its  surface. 
He  had  often  before  risen  out  of  reach  of  the  earth 
noises,  but  never  so  far  that  this  dull  reverberating 
sound,  combined  of  all  the  voices  of  the  world 
merged  together,  failed  to  make  itself  heard.  To- 
night, however,  he  heard  nothing.  The  stars  above 
his  head  changed  from  yellow  to  diamond  white, 
and  the  cold  air  stung  his  cheeks  and  brought  the 
water  to  his  eyes. 


160  Jimbo  CHAP. 

But  at  length  the  governess's  warning,  as  he  ex- 
plored these  forbidden  regions,  came  back  to  him, 
and  in  a  series  of  gigantic  bounds  that  took  his 
breath  away  completely,  he  dropped  nearer  to  the 
earth  again  and  kept  on  at  a  much  lower  level. 

The  hours  passed  and  the  position  of  the  moon 
began  to  alter  noticeably.  Some  of  the  constella- 
tions that  were  overhead  when  he  started  were  now 
dipping  below  the  horizon.  Never  before  had  he 
ventured  so  far  from  home,  and  he  began  to  realise 
that  he  had  been  flying  much  longer  than  he  knew 
or  intended.  The  speed  had  been  terrific. 

The  change  came  imperceptibly.  With  the 
discovery  that  his  wings  were  not  moving  quite  so 
easily  as  before,  he  became  suddenly  aware  that  this 
had  really  been  the  case  for  some  little  time.  He 
was  flying  with  greater  effort,  and  for  a  long  time 
this  effort  had  been  increasing  gradually  before  he 
actually  recognised  the  fact. 

Although  no  longer  pointing  towards  the  earth  he 
seemed  to  be  sinking.  It  became  increasingly  diffi- 
cult to  fly  upwards.  His  wings  did  not  seem  to  fail 
or  weaken,  nor  was  he  conscious  of  feeling  tired; 
but  something  was  ever  persuading  him  to  fly  lower, 
almost  as  if  a  million  tiny  threads  were  coaxing  him 
downwards,  drawing  him  gradually  nearer  to  the 
world  again.  Whatever  it  was,  the  earth  had  come 
much  closer  to  him  in  the  last  hour,  and  its  familiar 


xrv  An  Adventure  161 

voices  were  pleasant  to  hear  after  the  boundless 
heights  he  had  just  left. 

But  for  some  reason  his  speed  grew  insensibly 
less  and  less.  His  wings  moved  apparently  as  fast 
as  before,  but  it  was  harder  to  keep  up.  In  spite 
of  himself  he  kept  sinking.  The  sensation  was 
quite  new,  and  he  could  not  understand  it.  It 
almost  seemed  as  though  he  were  being  pulled 
downwards. 

Jimbo  began  to  feel  uneasy.  He  had  not  lost 
his  bearings,  but  he  was  a  very  long  way  from  home, 
and  quite  beyond  reach  of  the  help  he  was  so 
accustomed  to.  With  a  great  effort  he  mounted 
several  hundred  feet  into  the  air,  and  tried  hard  to 
stay  there.  For  a  short  time  he  succeeded,  but  he 
soon  felt  himself  sinking  gradually  downwards  again. 
The  force  drawing  him  was  a  constant  force  without 
rise  or  fall;  and  with  a  deadly  feeling  of  fear  the 
boy  began  to  realise  that  he  would  soon  have  to 
yield  to  it  altogether.  His  heart  beat  faster  and 
his  thoughts  turned  to  the  friend  who  was  then 
far  away,  but  who  alone  could  save  him. 

She,  at  least,  could  have  explained  it  and  told 
him  what  best  to  do.  But  the  governess  was  beyond 
his  reach.  This  problem  he  must  face  alone. 

Something,  however,  had  to  be  done  quickly,  and 
Jimbo,  acting  more  as  the  man  than  as  the  boy, 
turned  and  flew  hurriedly  forward  in  another 


162  Jimbo  CHAP. 

direction.  He  hoped  this  might  somehow  counter- 
act the  force  that  still  drew  him  downwards;  and  for 
a  time  it  apparently  did  so,  and  he  flew  level.  But 
the  strain  increased  every  minute,  and  he  looked 
down  with  something  of  a  shudder  as  he  realised 
that  before  very  long  he  would  be  obliged  to  yield 
to  this  deadly  force  —  and  drop! 

It  was  then  for  the  first  time  he  noticed  a  change 
had  come  over  the  surface  of  the  earth  below. 
Instead  of  the  patchwork  of  field  and  wood  and 
road,  he  saw  a  vast  cloud  stretching  out,  white  and 
smooth  in  the  moonlight.  The  world  was  hidden 
beneath  a  snowy  fog,  dense  and  impenetrable.  It 
was  no  longer  even  possible  to  tell  in  what  direction 
he  was  flying,  for  there  was  nothing  to  steer  by. 
This  was  a  new  and  unexpected  complication,  and  the 
boy  could  not  understand  how  the  change  had  come 
about  so  quickly;  for  the  last  time  he  had  glanced 
down  for  indications  to  steer  by,  everything  was 
clear  and  easily  visible. 

It  was  very  beautiful,  this  carpet  of  white  mist 
with  the  silver  moon  shining  upon  it,  but  it  thrilled 
him  now  with  an  unpleasant  sense  of  dread.  And, 
still  more  unpleasant,  was  a  new  sound  which 
suddenly  broke  in  upon  the  stillness  and  turned 
his  blood  into  ice.  He  was  certain  that  he  heard 
wings  behind  him.  He  was  being  followed,  and  this 
meant  that  it  was  impossible  to  turn  and  fly  back. 


xiv  An  Adventure  163 

There  was  nothing  now  to  do  but  fly  forwards 
and  hope  to  distance  the  huge  wings;  but  if  he  was 
being  followed  by  the  powerful  flyer  he  had  seen 
a  few  nights  before,  the  boy  knew  that  he  stood 
little  chance  of  success,  and  he  did  it  because  it 
seemed  the  only  thing  possible. 

The  cloud  was  dense  and  chill  as  he  entered  it; 
its  moisture  clung  to  his  wings  and  made  them 
heavy;  his  muscles  seemed  to  stiffen,  and  motion 
became  more  and  more  difficult.  The  wings  behind 
him  meanwhile  came  closer. 

He  was  flying  along  the  surface  of  the  mist  now, 
his  body  and  wings  hidden,  and  his  head  just  above 
the  level.  He  could  see  along  its  white,  even  top. 
If  he  sank  a  few  more  inches  it  would  be  impossible 
to  see  at  all,  or  even  to  judge  where  he  was  going. 
Soon  it  rose  level  with  his  lips,  and  at  the  same  time 
he  noticed  a  new  smell  in  the  air,  faint  at  first,  but 
growing  every  moment  stronger.  It  was  a  fresh, 
sweet  odour,  yet  it  somehow  added  to  his  alarm,  and 
stirred  in  him  new  centres  of  uneasiness.  He  tried 
vainly  to  increase  his  speed  and  distance  the  wings 
which  continued  to  gain  so  steadily  upon  him  from 
behind. 

The  cloud,  apparently,  was  not  everywhere  of  the 
same  density,  for  here  and  there  he  saw  the  tops  of 
green  hills  below  him  as  he  flew.  But  he  could  not 
understand  why  each  green  hill  seemed  to  have  a 


164  Jimbo  CHAP. 

little  lake  on  its  summit  —  a  little  lake  in  which  the 
reflected  moon  stared  straight  up  into  his  face.  Nor 
could  he  quite  make  out  what  the  sounds  were 
which  rose  to  his  ears  through  the  muffling  of  the 
cloud  —  sounds  of  tumultuous  rushing,  hissing,  and 
tumbling.  They  were  continuous,  these  sounds, 
and  once  or  twice  he  thought  he  heard  with  them  a 
deep,  thunderous  roar  that  almost  made  his  heart 
stop  beating  as  he  listened. 

Was  he,  perhaps,  over  a  range  of  high  mountains, 
and  was  this  the  sound  of  the  tumbling  torrents? 

Then,  suddenly,  it  came  to  him  with  a  shock  that 
the  ordinary  sounds  of  the  earth  had  wholly  ceased. 

Jimbo  felt  his  head  beginning  to  whirl.  He 
grew  weaker  every  minute;  less  able  to  offer  resist- 
ance to  the  remorseless  forces  that  were  sucking  him 
down.  Now  the  mist  had  closed  over  his  head,  and 
he  could  no  longer  see  the  moonlight.  He  turned 
again,  shaking  with  terror,  and  drove  forward  head- 
long through  the  clinging  vapour.  A  sensation  of 
choking  rose  in  his  throat;  he  was  tired  out,  ready 
to  drop  with  exhaustion.  The  wings  of  the  follow- 
ing creature  were  now  so  close  that  he  thought 
every  minute  he  would  be  seized  from  behind  and 
plunged  into  the  abyss  to  his  death. 

It  was  just  then  that  he  made  the  awful  discovery 
that  the  world  below  him  was  not  stationary:  the 
green  hills  were  moving.  They  were  sweeping  past 


xiv  An  Adventure  165 

with  a  rushing,  thundering  sound  in  regular  pro- 
cession; and  their  huge  sides  were  streaked  with 
white.  The  reflection  of  the  moon  leaped  up.  into 
his  face  as  each  hill  rolled  hissing  and  gurgling  by, 
and  he  knew  at  last  with  a  shock  of  unutterable 
horror  that  it  was  THE  SEA  ! 

He  was  flying  over  the  sea,  and  the  waters  were 
drawing  him  down.  The  immense,  green  waves 
that  rolled  along  through  the  sea  fog,  carrying  the 
moon's  face  on  their  crests,  foaming  and  gurgling 
as  they  went,  were  already  leaping  up  to  seize  him 
by  the  feet  and  drag  him  into  their  depths. 

He  dropped  several  feet  deeper  into  the  mist, 
and  towards  the  sea,  terror-stricken  and  blinded. 
Then,  turning  frantically,  not  knowing  what  else  to 
do,  he  struck  out,  with  his  last  strength,  for  the 
upper  surface  and  the  moonlight.  But  as  he  did  so, 
turning  his  face  towards  the  sky  he  saw  a  dark  form 
hovering  just  above  him,  covering  his  retreat  with 
huge  outstretched  wings.  It  was  too  late;  he  was 
hemmed  in  on  all  sides. 

At  that  moment  a  huge,  rolling  wave,  bigger  than 
all  the  rest,  swept  past  and  wet  him  to  the  knees. 
His  heart  failed  him.  The  next  wave  would  cover 
him.  Already  it  was  rushing  towards  him  with 
foaming  crest.  He  was  in  its  shadow;  he  heard  its 
thunder.  Darkness  rushed  over  him  —  he  saw  the 
vast  sides  streaked  with  grey  and  white  —  when 


1 66  Jimbo  CHAP. 

suddenly,  the  owner  of  the  wings  plucked  him 
in  the  back,  midway  between  the  shoulders,  and 
lifted  him  bodily  out  of  the  fog,  so  that  the  wave 
swept  by  without  even  wetting  his  feet. 

The  next  minute  he  saw  a  dim,  white  sheet  of 
silvery  mist  at  his  feet,  and  found  himself  far  above 
it  in  the  sweet,  clean  moonlight;  and  when  he 
turned,  almost  dead  with  terror,  to  look  upon  his 
captor,  he  found  himself  looking  straight  into  the 
eyes  of  —  the  governess. 

The  sense  of  relief  was  so  great  that  Jimbo  simply 
closed  his  wings,  and  hung,  a  dead  weight,  in  the 
air. 

"Use  your  wings!"  cried  the  governess  sharply; 
and,  still  holding  him,  while  he  began  to  flap  feebly, 
she  turned  and  flew  in  the  direction  of  the  land. 

"  You ! "  he  gasped  at  last.  "  It  was  you  following 
me!" 

"Of  course  it  was  me!  I  never  let  you  out  of 
my  sight.  I've  always  followed  you  —  every  time 
you've  been  out  alone." 

Jimbo  was  still  conscious  of  the  drawing  power 
of  the  sea,  but  he  felt  that  his  companion  was  too 
strong  for  it.  After  fifteen  minutes  of  fierce  flight 
he  heard  the  sounds  of  earth  again,  and  knew  that 
they  were  safe. 

Then  the  governess  loosened  her  hold,  and  they 
flew  along  side  by  side  in  the  direction  of  home. 


xiv  An  Adventure  167 

"I  won't  scold  you,  Jimbo,"  she  said  presently, 
"  for  you've  suffered  enough  already."  She  was  the 
first  to  break  the  silence,  and  her  voice  trembled  a 
little.  "But  remember,  the  sea  draws  you  down, 
just  as  surely  as  the  moon  draws  you  up.  Nothing 
would  please  him  better  than  to  see  you  destroyed 
by  one  or  the  other." 

Jimbo  said  nothing.  But,  when  once  they  were 
safe  inside  the  room  again,  he  went  up  and  cried  his 
eyes  out  on  her  arm,  while  she  folded  him  in  to  her 
heart  as  if  he  were  the  only  thing  in  the  whole  world 
she  had  to  love. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  CALL   O"F  THE   BODY 

ONE  night,  towards  the  end  of  the  practice  flights, 
a  strange  thing  happened,  which  showed  that  the 
time  for  the  final  flight  of  escape  was  drawing  near. 

They  had  been  out  for  several  hours  flying 
through  a  rainstorm,  the  thousand  little  drops  of 
which  stung  their  faces  like  tiny  gun-shot.  About 
two  in  the  morning  the  wind  shifted  and  drove  the 
clouds  away  as  by  magic;  the  stars  came  out,  at 
first  like  the  eyes  of  children  still  dim  with  cry- 
ing, but  later  with  a  clear  brilliance  that  filled  Jimbo 
and  the  governess  with  keen  pleasure.  The  air  was 
washed  and  perfumed;  the  night  luminous,  alive, 
singing.  All  its  tenderness  and  passion  entered 
their  hearts  and  filled  them  with  the  wonder  of  its 
glory. 

"Come  down,  Jimbo,"  said  the  governess,  "and 
we'll  lie  in  the  trees  and  smell  the  air  after  the  rain." 

"Yes,"  added  the  boy,  whose  Older  Self  had  been 
leading  him  far  down  the  Gallery  of  Memories,  "  and 
watch  the  stars  and  hear  them  singing." 

She  led  the  way  to  some  beech  trees  that  lined  a 

168 


CHAP,  xv  The  Call  of  the  Body  169 

secluded  lane,  and  he  settled  himself  comfortably  in 
the  top  branches  of  the  largest,  while  the  governess 
soon  found  a  resting-place  beside  him.  It  was  a  de- 
serted spot,  far  from  human  habitation.  Here  and 
there  through  the  foliage  they  could  see  little  pools  of 
rain-water  reflecting  the  sky.  The  group  of  trees 
swung  in  the  wind,  dreaming  great  woodland  dreams, 
and  overhead  the  stars  looked  like  a  thousand  or- 
chards in  the  sky,  filling  the  air  with  the  radiance  of 
their  blossoms. 

"How  brilliant  they  are  to-night!"  said  the  gov- 
erness, after  watching  the  boy  keenly  for  some  min- 
utes as  they  lay  side  by  side  in  the  great  forked 
branch.  "I  never  saw  the  constellations  so  clear." 

"But  they  have  so  little  shape,"  he  answered 
dreamily;  "if  we  wore  lights  when  we  flew  about 
we  should  make  much  better  constellations  than  they 
do." 

"The  Big  and  Little  Child  instead  of  the  Big  and 
Little  Bear,"  she  laughed,  still  watching  him. 

"I'm  slipping  away "  he  began  suddenly,  and 

then  stopped.  He  saw  the  expression  of  his  com- 
panion's eyes,  which  were  looking  him  through  and 
through  with  the  most  poignant  love  and  yearning 
mingled  in  their  gaze,  and  something  clutched  at 
his  heart  that  he  could  not  understand. 

" not  slipping  out  of  the  tree,"  he  went  on 

vaguely,  "but  slipping  into  some  new  place  or 


1 70  Jimbo  CHAP. 

condition.  I  don't  understand  it.  Am  I  —  going 
off  somewhere  —  where  you  cai  't  follow  ?  I  thought 
suddenly  —  I  was  losing  you  " 

The  governess  smiled  at  m  sadly  and  said 
nothing.  She  stroked  his  w  gs  and  then  raised 
them  to  her  lips  and  kissed  tjijm.  Jimbo  watched 
her,  and  folded  his  other  wing  across  into  her  hands; 
he  felt  unhappy,  and  his  heart  began  to  swell  within 
him;  but  he  didn't  know  what  to  say,  and  the  Older 
Self  began  slowly  to  fade  away  again. 

"But  the  stars,"  he  went  on,  "have  they  got 
things  they  send  out,  too  —  forces,  I  mean,  like  the 
trees?  Do  they  send  out  something  that  makes  us 
feel  sad,  or  happy,  or  strong,  or  weak?" 

She  did  not  answer  for  some  time;  she  lay  watch- 
ing his  face  and  fondling  his  smooth  red  wings; 
and,  presently,  when  she  did  begin  to  explain,  Jimbo 
found  that  the  child  in  him  was  then  paramount 
again,  and  he  could  not  quite  follow  what  she  said. 

He  tried  to  answer  properly  and  seem  interested, 
but  her  words  were  very  long  and  hard  to  under- 
stand, and  after  a  time  he  thought  she  was  talking 
to  herself  more  than  to  him,  and  he  gave  up  all 
serious  effort  to  follow.  Then  he  became  aware 
that  her  voice  had  changed.  The  words  seemed  to 
drop  down  upon  him  from  a  great  height.  He 
imagined  she  was  standing  on  one  of  those  far  stars 
he  had  been  asking  about,  and  was  shouting  at  him 


xv  The  Call  of  the  Body  171 

through  an  immense  tube  of  sky  and  darkness. 
The  words  pricked  I  -is  ears  like  needle  points,  only 
he  no  longer  heard  them  as  words,  but  as  tiny  ex- 
plosions of  sound; . .. meaningless  and  distant.  Swift 
flashes  of  light  be^  <  to  dance  before  his  eyes,  and 
suddenly  from  undt  neath  the  tree,  a  wind  rose  up 
and  rushed,  laughing,  across  his  face.  Darkness  in 
a  mass  dropped  over  his  eyes,  and  he  sank  back- 
wards somewhere  into  another  corner  of  space 
altogether. 

The  governess,  meanwhile,  lay  quite  still,  watching 
the  limp  form  in  the  branches  beside  her  and  still 
holding  the  tips  of  his  red  wings.  Presently  tears 
stole  into  her  eyes,  and  began  to  run  down  her 
cheeks.  One  deep  sigh  after  another  escaped  from 
her  lips;  but  the  little  boy,  or  the  old  soul,  who 
was  the  cause  of  all  her  emotion,  apparently  was  far 
away  and  knew  nothing  of  it.  For  a  long  time  she 
lay  in  silence,  and  then  leaned  a  little  nearer  to  him, 
so  as  to  see  his  full  face.  The  eyes  were  wide  open 
and  staring,  but  they  were  looking  at  nothing  she 
could  see,  for  the  consciousness  cannot  be  in  two 
places  at  the  same  time,  and  Jimbo  just  then  was 
off  on  a  little  journey  of  his  own,  a  journey  that 
was  but  preliminary  to  the  great  final  one  of  all. 

"  Jimbo,"  whispered  the  girl  between  her  tears  and 
sighs,  "Jimbo!  Where  have  you  gone  to?  Tell 
me,  are  they  getting  ready  for  you  at  last,  and  am 


172  Jimbo  CHAP 

I  to  lose  you  after  all  ?  Is  this  the  only  way  I  can 
save  you  —  by  losing  you?" 

There  was  no  answer,  no  sign  of  movement ;  and 
the  governess  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  and  cried 
quietly  to  herself,  while  her  tears  dropped  down 
through  the  branches  of  the  tree  and  fell  into  the 
rain-pools  beneath. 

For  Jimbo's  state  of  oblivion  in  the  tree  was  in 
reality  a  momentary  return  to  consciousness  in  his 
body  on  the  bed,  and  the  repaired  mechanism  of  the 
brain  and  muscles  had  summoned  him  back  on  a 
sort  of  trial  visit.  He  remembered  nothing  of  it 
afterwards,  any  more  than  one  remembers  the 
experiences  of  deep  sleep;  but  the  fact  was  that, 
with  the  descent  of  the  darkness  upon  him  in  the 
branches,  he  had  opened  his  eyes  once  again  on 
the  scene  in  the  night-nursery  bedroom  where  his 
body  lay. 

He  saw  figures  standing  round  the  bed  and  about 
the  room;  his  mother,  with  the  same  white  face  as 
before,  was  still  bending  over  the  bed  asking  him 
if  he  knew  her;  a  tall  man  in  a  long  black  coat 
moved  noiselessly  to  and  fro ;  and  he  saw  a  shaded 
lamp  on  a  table  a  little  to  the  right  of  the  bed. 
Nothing  seemed  to  have  changed  very  much,  though 
there  had  probably  been  time  enough  since  he  last 
opened  his  eyes  for  the  black-coated  doctor  to  have 
gone  and  come  again  for  a  second  visit.  He  held 


xv  The  Call  of  the  Body  173 

an  instrument  in  his  hands  that  shone  brightly  in 
the  lamplight.  Jimbo  saw  this  plainly  and  wondered 
what  it  was.  He  felt  as  if  he  were  just  waking  out 
of  a  nice,  deep  sleep  —  dreamless  and  undisturbed. 
The  Empty  House,  the  Governess,  Fright,  and  the 
Children  had  all  vanished  from  his  memory,  and 
he  knew  no  more  about  wings  and  feathers  than 
he  did  about  the  science  of  meteorology. 

But  the  bedroom  scene  was  a  mere  glimpse  after 
all;  his  eyes  were  already  beginning  to  close  again. 
First  they  shut  out  the  figure  of  the  doctor;  then 
the  bed-curtains;  and  then  the  nurse  moved  her 
arm,  making  the  whole  scene  quiver  for  an  instant, 
like  some  huge  jelly-shape,  before  it  dipped  into 
profound  darkness  and  disappeared  altogether.  His 
mother's  voice  ran  off  into  a  thin  trickle  of  sound, 
miles  and  miles  away,  and  the  light  from  the  lamp 
followed  him  with  its  glare  for  less  than  half  a 
second.  All  had  vanished. 

"Jimbo,  dear,  where  have  you  been?  Can  you 
remember  anything?"  asked  the  soft  voice  beside 
him,  as  he  looked  first  at  the  stars  overhead,  and 
then  from  the  tracery  of  branches  and  leaves  beneath 
him  to  the  great  sea  of  tree-tops  and  open  country 
all  round. 

But  he  could  tell  her  nothing ;  he  seemed  dreamy 
and  absent-minded,  lying  and  staring  at  her  as  if  he 
hardly  knew  who  she  was  or  what  she  was  saying. 


174  Jimbo 


CHAP. 


His  mind  was  still  hovering  near  the  border-line 
of  the  two  states  of  consciousness,  like  the  region 
between  sleeping  and  waking,  where  both  worlds 
seem  unreal  and  wholly  wonderful. 

He  could  not  answer  her  questions,  but  he 
evidently  caught  some  reflex  of  her  emotions,  for 
he  leaned  towards  her  across  the  branches,  and  said 
he  was  happy  and  never  wanted  to  leave  her.  Then 
he  crawled  to  the  end  of  the  big  bough  and  sprang 
out  into  the  air  with  a  shout  of  delight.  He  was 
the  child  again  —  the  flying  child,  wild  with  the 
excitement  of  tearing  through  the  night  air  at  fifty 
miles  an  hour. 

The  governess  soon  followed  him,  and  they  flew 
home  together,  taking  a  long  turn  by  the  sea  and 
past  the  great  chalk  cliffs,  where  the  sea  sang  loud 
beneath  them. 

These  lapses  became  with  time  more  frequent, 
as  well  as  of  longer  duration;  and  with  them  the 
boy  noticed  that  the  longing  to  escape  became  once 
again  intense.  He  wanted  to  get  home,  wherever 
home  was;  he  experienced  a  sort  of  nostalgia  for 
the  body,  though  he  could  not  remember  where 
that  body  lay.  But  when  he  asked  the  governess 
what  this  feeling  meant,  she  only  mystified  him  by 
her  answers,  saying  that  everyone,  in  the  body  or 
out  of  it,  felt  a  deep  longing  for  their  final  home, 
though  they  might  not  have  the  least  idea  where 


xv  The  Call  of  tJie  Body  175 

it  lay,  or  even  to  be  able  to  recognise,  much  less 
to  label,  their  longing. 

His  normal  feelings,  too,  were  slowly  returning 
to  him.  The  Older  Self  became  more  and  more 
submerged.  As  he  approached  the  state  of  ordinary, 
superficial  consciousness,  the  characteristics  of  that 
state  reflected  themselves  more  and  more  in  his 
thoughts  and  feelings.  His  memory  still  remained 
a  complete  blank;  but  he  somehow  felt  that  the 
things,  places,  and  people  he  wanted  to  remember 
had  moved  much  nearer  to  him  than  before.  Every 
day  brought  them  more  within  his  reach. 

"  All  these  forgotten  things  will  come  back  to  me 
soon,  I  know,"  he  said  one  day  to  the  governess, 
"and  then  I'll  tell  you  all  about  them." 

"  Perhaps  you'll  remember  me,  too,  then,"  she 
answered,  a  shadow  passing  across  her  face. 

Jimbo  clapped  his  hands  with  delight. 

"Oh,"  he  cried,  "I  should  like  to  remember 
you,  because  that  would  make  you  a  sort  of  two- 
people  governess,  and  I  should  love  you  twice  as 
much." 

But,  with  the  gradual  return  to  former  conditions, 
the  feelings  of  age  and  experience  grew  dim  and 
indefinite,  his  knowledge  lessened,  becoming  obscure 
and  confused;  showing  itself  only  in  vague  im- 
pressions and  impulses,  until  at  last  it  became  quite 
the  exception  for  the  child-consciousness  to  be 


176  Jimbo  CHAP. 

broken  through  by  flashes  of  intuition  and  inspira- 
tion from  the  more  deeply  hidden  memories. 

For  one  thing,  the  deep  horror  of  the  Empty 
House  and  its  owner  now  returned  to  him  with 
full  force.  Fear  settled  down  again  over  the  room, 
and  lurked  in  the  shadows  over  the  yard.  A  vivid 
dread  seized  him  of  the  other  door  in  the  room  — 
the  door  through  which  the  Frightened  Children  had 
disappeared,  but  which  had  never  opened  since. 
It  gradually  became  for  him  a  personality  in  the 
room,  a  staring,  silent,  listening  thing,  always  watch- 
ing, always  waiting.  One  day  it  would  open  and 
he  would  be  caught !  In  a  dozen  ways  like  this 
the  horror  of  the  house  entered  his  heart  and 
made  him  long  for  escape  with  all  the  force  of  his 
being. 

But  the  governess,  too,  seemed  changing;  she 
was  becoming  more  vague  and  more  mysterious. 
Her  face  was  always  sad  now,  and  her  eyes  wistful ; 
her  manner  became  restless  and  uneasy,  and  in  many 
little  ways  the  child  could  not  fail  to  notice  that 
her  mind  was  intent  upon  other  things.  He  begged 
her  to  name  the  day  for  the  final  flight,  but  she 
always  seemed  to  have  some  good  excuse  for  putting 
it  off. 

"I  feel  frightened  when  you  don't  tell  me  what's 
going  on,"  he  said  to  her. 

"It's  the  preparations  for  the  last  flight,"  she 


XV 


The  Call  of  the  Body  177 


answered,  "  the  flight  of  escape.  He'll  try  to  prevent 
us  going  together  so  that  you  should  get  lost.  But 
it's  better  you  shouldn't  know  too  much,"  she 
added.  "Trust  me  and  have  patience." 

"Oh,  that's  what  you're  so  afraid  of,"  he  said, 
"separation!"  He  was  very  proud  indeed  of  the 
long  word,  and  said  it  over  several  times  to  himself. 

And  the  governess,  looking  out  of  the  window 
at  the  fading  sunlight,  repeated  to  herself  more  than 
to  him  the  word  he  was  so  proud  of. 

"Yes,  that's  what  I'm  so  afraid  of  —  separation; 

but  if  it  means  your  salvation "  and  her  sentence 

remained  unfinished  as  her  eyes  wandered  far  above 
the  tops  of  the  trees  into  the  shadows  of  the  sky. 

And  Jimbo,  drawn  by  the  sadness  of  her  voice, 
turned  towards  the  window  and  noticed  to  his  utter 
amazement  that  he  could  see  right  through  her.  He 
could  see  the  branches  of  the  trees  through  her 
body. 

But  the  next  instant  she  turned  and  was  no 
longer  transparent,  and  before  the  boy  could  say 
a  word,  she  crossed  the  room  and  disappeared 
downstairs  through  the  trap-door. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

PREPARATION 

Now  that  he  was  preparing  to  leave  it,  Jimbo  began 
to  realise  more  fully  how  things  in  this  world  of 
delirium  —  so  the  governess  sometimes  called  it  — 
were  all  terribly  out  of  order  and  confused.  So 
long  as  he  was  wholly  in  it  and  of  it,  everything  had 
seemed  all  right;  but,  as  he  approached  his  normal 
condition  again,  the  disorder  became  more  and 
more  apparent. 

And  the  next  few  hours  brought  it  home  with 
startling  clearness,  and  increased  the  desire  for  the 
final  escape  to  fever  heat. 

It  was  not  so  much  a  nonsense- world  —  it  was  too 
alarming  for  that  —  as  a  world  of  nightmare,  wherein 
everything  was  distorted.  Events  in  it  were  all  out 
of  proportion;  effects  no  longer  sprang  from  adequate 
causes;  things  happened  in  a  dislocated  sort  of  way, 
and  there  was  no  sequence  in  the  order  of  their 
happening.  Tiny  occurrences  filled  him  with  dispro- 
portionate, inconceivable  horror;  and  great  events, 
on  the  other  hand,  passed  him  scatheless.  The 
spirit  of  disorder  —  monstrous,  uncouth,  terrifying 

178 


CHAP,  xvi  Preparation  179 

—  reigned  supreme;  and  Jimbo's  whole  desire, 
though  inarticulate,  was  to  escape  back  into  order 
and  harmony  again. 

In  contrast  to  all  this  dreadful  uncertainty,  the 
conduct  of  the  governess  stood  out  alone  as  the  one 
thing  he  could  count  upon:  she  was  sure  and  un- 
failing; he  felt  absolute  confidence  in  her  plans  for 
his  safety,  and  when  he  thought  of  her  his  mind  was 
at  rest.  Come  what  might,  she  would  always  be 
there  in  time  to  help.  The  adventure  over  the  sea 
had  proved  that;  but,  childlike,  he  thought  chiefly 
of  his  own  safety,  and  had  ceased  to  care  very  much 
whether  she  escaped  with  him  or  not.  It  was  the 
older  Jimbo  that  preferred  captivity  to  escape  without 
her;  whereas  every  minute  now  he  was  sinking 
deeper  into  the  normal  child  state  in  which  the 
intuitive  flashes  from  the  buried  soul  became  more 
and  more  rare. 

Meanwhile,  there  was  preparation  going  on,  secret 
and  mysterious.  He  could  feel  it.  Someone  else 
besides  the  governess  was  making  plans,  and  the  boy 
began  to  dread  the  moment  of  escape  almost  as  much 
as  he  desired  it.  The  alternative  appalled  him  — 
to  live  for  ever  in  the  horror  of  this  house,  bounded 
by  the  narrow  yard,  watched  by  Fright  listening  ever 
at  his  elbow,  and  visited  by  the  horrible  Frightened 
Children.  Even  the  governess  herself  began  to 
inspire  him  with  something  akin  to  fear,  as  her 


180  Jimbo 


CHAP. 


personality  grew  more  and  more  mysterious.  He 
thought  of  her  as  she  stood  by  the  window,  with 
the  branches  of  the  tree  visible  through  her  body, 
and  the  thought  rilled  him  with  a  dreadful  and 
haunting  distress. 

But  this  was  only  when  she  was  absent;  the 
moment  she  came  into  the  room,  and  he  looked 
into  her  kind  eyes,  the  old  feeling  of  security  re- 
turned, and  he  felt  safe  and  happy. 

Once,  during  the  day,  she  came  up  to  see  him, 
and  this  time  with  final  instructions.  Jimbo  listened 
with  rapt  attention. 

"To-night  or  to-morrow  night  we  start,"  she  said 
in  a  quiet  voice.  "You  must  wait  till  you  hear  me 
calling " 

"But  shan't  we  start  together?"  he  interrupted. 

"Not  exactly,"  she  replied.  "I'm  doing  every- 
thing possible  to  put  him  off  the  scent,  but  it's 
not  easy,  for  once  Fright  knows  you  he's  always  on 
the  watch.  Even  if  he  can't  prevent  your  escape, 
he'll  try  to  send  you  home  to  your  body  with  such 
a  shock  that  you'll  be  only  'half  there'  for  the 
rest  of  your  life." 

Jimbo  did  not  quite  understand  what  she  meant 
by  this,  and  returned  at  once  to  the  main  point. 

"Then  the  moment  you  call  I'm  to  start?" 

"Yes.  I  shall  be  outside  somewhere.  It  depends 
on  the  wind  and  weather  a  little,  but  probably  I 


xvi  Preparation  181 

shall  be  hovering  above  the  trees.  You  must  dash 
out  of  the  window  and  join  me  the  moment  you 
hear  me  call.  Clear  the  wall  without  sinking  into 
the  yard,  and  mind  he  doesn't  tear  your  wings  off 
as  you  fly  by." 

"What  will  happen,  though,  if  I  don't  find  you?" 
he  asked. 

"You  might  get  lost.     If  he  succeeds  in  getting 

me  out  of  the  way  first  you're  sure   to  get  lost 

>j 

"But  I've  had  long  flights  without  getting  lost," 
he  objected. 

"Nothing  to  this  one,"  she  replied.  "It  will  be 
tremendous.  You  see,  Jimbo,  it's  not  only  distance; 
it's  change  of  condition  as  well." 

"I  don't  mind  what  it  is  so  long  as  we  escape 
together,"  he  said,  puzzled  by  her  words. 

He  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  her  face.  It  seemed 
to  him  she  was  changing  even  as  he  looked  at  her. 
A  sort  of  veil  lifted  from  her  features.  He  fancied 
he  could  see  the  shape  of  the  door  through  her 
body. 

"Oh,  please,  Miss  Lake "  he  began  in  a 

frightened  voice,  taking  a  step  towards  her.  "What 
is  the  matter?  You  look  so  different!" 

"Nothing,  dear  boy,  is  the  matter,"  she  replied 
faintly.  "I  feel  sad  at  the  thought  of  your  —  of 
our  going,  that's  all.  But  that's  nothing,"  she 


1 82  Jimbo 


CHAP. 


added  more  briskly,  "and  remember,  I've  told  you 
exactly  what  to  do,  so  you  can't  make  any  mistake. 
Now  good-bye  for  the  present." 

There  was  a  smile  on  her  face  that  he  had  never 
seen  there  before,  and  an  expression  of  tenderness 
and  love  that  even  he  could  not  fail  to  understand. 
But  even  as  he  looked  she  seemed  to  fade  away  into 
a  delicate,  thin  shadow  as  she  moved  slowly  towards 
the  trap-door.  Jimbo  stretched  out  his  arms  to 
touch  her,  for  the  moment  of  dread  had  passed, 
and  he  wanted  to  kiss  her. 

"No!"  she  cried  sharply.  "Don't  touch  me, 
child;  don't  touch  me!" 

But  he  was  already  close  beside  her,  and  in  an- 
other second  would  have  had  his  arms  round  her, 
when  his  foot  stumbled  over  something,  and  he  fell 
forward  into  her  with  his  full  weight.  Instead  of 
saving  himself  against  her  body,  however,  he  fell 
clean  through  her!  Nothing  stopped  him;  there 
was  no  resistance;  he  met  nothing  more  solid  than 
air,  and  fell  full  length  upon  the  floor.  Before  he 
could  recover  from  his  surprise  and  pick  himself 
up,  something  touched  him  on  the  lips,  and  he 
heard  a  voice  that  was  faint  as  a  whisper  saying, 
"  Good-bye,  darling  child,  and  bless  you."  The  next 
moment  he  was  on  his  feet  again  and  the  room  was 
empty.  The  governess  had  gone  through  the  trap- 
door, and  he  was  alone. 


xvi  Preparation  183 

It  was  all  very  strange  and  confusing,  and  he 
could  not  understand  what  was  happening  to  her. 
He  never  for  a  moment  realised  that  the  change 
was  in  himself,  and  that  as  the  tie  between  himself 
and  his  body  became  closer,  the  things  of  this  other 
world  he  had  been  living  in  for  so  long  must  fade 
gradually  away  into  shadows  and  emptiness. 

But  Jimbo  was  a  brave  boy;  there  was  nothing 
of  the  coward  in  him,  though  his  sensitive  tem- 
perament made  him  sometimes  hesitate  where  an 
ordinary  child  with  less  imagination  would  have  acted 
promptly.  The  desire  to  cry  he  thrust  down  and 
repressed,  fighting  his  depression  by  the  thought 
that  within  a  few  hours  the  voice  might  sound  that 
should  call  him  to  the  excitement  of  the  last  flight  — 
and  freedom. 

The  rest  of  the  daylight  slipped  away  very  quickly, 
and  the  room  was  full  of  shadows  almost  before  he 
knew  it.  Then  came  the  darkness.  Outside,  the 
wind  rose  and  fell  fitfully,  booming  in  the  chimney 
with  hollow  music,  and  sighing  round  the  walls  of 
the  house.  A  few  stars  peeped  between  the  branches 
of  the  elms,  but  masses  of  cloud  hid  most  of  the 
sky,  and  the  air  felt  heavy  with  coming  rain. 

He  lay  down  on  the  bed  and  waited.  At  the 
least  sound  he  started,  thinking  it  might  be  the  call 
from  the  governess.  But  the  few  sounds  he  did 
hear  always  resolved  themselves  into  the  moaning 


184  Jimbo  CHAP. 

of  the  wind,  and  no  voice  came.  With  his  eyes  on 
the  open  window,  trying  to  pierce  the  gloom  and 
find  the  stars,  he  lay  motionless  for  hours,  while  the 
night  wore  on  and  the  shadows  deepened. 

And  during  those  long  hours  of  darkness  and 
silence  he  was  conscious  that  a  change  was  going  on 
within  him.  Name  it  he  could  not,  but  somehow  it 
made  him  feel  that  living  people  like  himself  were 
standing  near  him,  trying  to  speak,  beckoning, 
anxious  to  bring  him  into  their  own  particular  world. 
The  darkness  was  so  great  that  he  could  see  only 
the  square  outline  of  the  open  window,  but  he  felt 
sure  that  any  sudden  flash  of  light  would  have 
revealed  a  group  of  persons  round  his  bed  with  arms 
outstretched,  trying  to  reach  him.  The  emotion 
they  roused  in  him  was  not  fear,  for  he  felt  sure 
they  were  kind,  and  eager  only  to  help  him;  and 
the  more  he  realised  their  presence,  the  less  he 
thought  about  the  governess  who  had  been  doing 
so  much  to  make  his  escape  possible. 

Then,  too,  voices  began  to  sound  somewhere  in 
the  air,  but  he  could  not  tell  whether  they  were 
actually  in  the  room,  or  outside  in  the  night,  or 
even  within  himself  —  in  his  own  head.  Strange, 
faint  voices,  whispering,  laughing,  shouting,  crying. 
Fragments  of  stories,  rhymes,  riddles,  odd  names  of 
people  and  places  jostled  one  another  with  varying 
degrees  of  clearness,  now  loud,  now  soft,  till  he 


xvi  Preparation  185 

wondered  what  it  all  meant,  and  longed  for  the  light 
to  come. 

But  besides  all  this,  something  else,  too,  was 
abroad  that  night  —  something  he  could  not  name  or 
even  think  about  without  shaking  with  terror  down 
at  the  very  roots  of  his  being.  And  when  he 
thought  of  this,  his  heart  called  loudly  for  the 
governess,  and  the  people  hidden  in  the  shadows  of 
the  room  seemed  quite  useless  and  unable  to  help. 

Thus  he  hovered  between  the  two  worlds  and 
the  two  memories,  phantoms  and  realities  shifting 
and  changing  places  every  few  minutes. 

A  little  light  would  have  saved  him  much  suffer- 
ing. If  only  the  moon  were  up!  Moonlight 
would  have  made  all  the  difference.  Even  a  moon 
half  hidden  would  have  put  the  shadows  farther 
away  from  him. 

"Dear  old  misty  moon!"  he  cried  half  aloud  to 
himself  upon  the  bed,  "why  aren't  you  here  to- 
night? My  last  night!" 

Misty  Moon,  Misty  Moon!  The  words  kept 
ringing  in  his  head.  Misty  Moon,  Misty  Moon! 
They  swam  round  in  his  blood  in  an  odd,  tumultuous 
rhythm.  Every  time  the  current  of  blood  passed 
through  his  brain  in  the  course  of  its  circulation  it 
brought  the  words  with  it,  altered  a  little,  and  singing 
like  a  voice. 

Like  a  voice!    Suddenly   he  made  a  discovery 


186  Jimbo 


CHAP. 


that  it  actually  was  a  voice  —  and  not  his  own.  It 
was  no  longer  the  blood  singing  in  his  veins,  it  was 
someone  singing  outside  the  window.  The  sound 
began  faintly  and  far  away,  up  above  the  trees;  then 
it  came  gradually  nearer,  only  to  die  away  again 
almost  to  a  whisper. 

If  it  was  not  the  voice  of  the  governess  he  could 
only  say  it  was  a  very  good  imitation  of  it. 

The  words  forming  out  of  the  empty  air  rose 
and  fell  with  the  wind,  and  taking  his  thoughts 
flung  them  in  a  stream  through  the  dark  sky  towards 
the  hidden,  misty  moon: 

O  misty  moon, 

Dear,  misty  moon, 

The  nights  are  long  without  thee; 

The  shadows  creep 

Across  my  sleep, 

And  fold  their  wings  about  me ! 

And  another  silvery  voice,  that  might  have  been  the 
voice  of  a  star,  took  it  up  faintly,  evidently  from  a 
much  greater  distance: 

O  misty  moon, 

Sweet,  misty  moon, 

The  stars  are  dim  behind  thee; 

And,  lo,  thy  beams 

Spin  through  my  dreams 

And  weave  a  veil  to  blind  me ! 


xvi  Preparation  187 

The  sound  of  this  beautiful  Voice  so  delighted  Jimbo 
that  he  sprang  from  his  ied  and  rushed  to  the 
window,  hoping  that  hr  might  be  able  to  hear  it 
more  clearly.  But,  before  he  got  halfway  across 
the  room,  he  stopped  short,  trembling  with  terror. 
Underneath  his  very  feet,  in  the  depths  of  the 
house,  he  heard  the  awful  voice  he  dreaded  more 
than  anything  else.  It  roared  out  the  lines  with  a 
sound  like  the  rushing  of  a  great  river: 

O  misty  moon, 

Pale,  misty  moon, 

Thy  songs  are  nightly  driven, 

Eternally, 

From  sky  to  sky, 

O'er  the  old,  grey  Hills  of  Heaven ! 

And  after  the  verse  Jimbo  heard  a  great  peal  of 
laughter  that  seemed  to  shake  the  walls  of  the  house, 
and  rooted  his  feet  to  the  floor.  It  rolled  away  with 
thundering  echoes  into  the  very  bowels  of  the  earth. 
He  just  managed  to  crawl  back  to  his  mattress  and 
lie  down,  when  another  voice  took  up  the  song,  but 
this  time  in  accents  so  tender  that  the  child  felt 
something  within  him  melt  into  tears  of  joy,  and  he 
was  on  the  verge  of  recognising,  for  the  first  time 
since  his  accident,  the  voice  of  his  mother: 

O  misty  moon, 
Shy,  misty  moon, 


1 88  Jimbo  CHAP. 

Whence  comes  th\  that  trembles 

In  sweet  disgrace  ice  — 

O'er  half  thy  face  ^-^rij 

When  Night  her  stars  a       \bles? 

But  his  memory,  of  course,  iailed  him  just  as  he 
seemed  about  to  grasp  it,  and  he  was  left  wondering 
why  the  sound  of  that  one  voice  had  brought  him  a 
moment  of  radiant  happiness  in  the  midst  of  so 
much  horror  and  pain.  Meanwhile  the  answering 
voices  went  on,  each  time  different,  and  in  new 
directions. 

But  the  next  verse  somehow  brought  back  to 
him  all  the  terror  he  had  felt  in  his  flight  over  the 
sea,  when  the  sound  of  the  hissing  waters  had 
reached  his  ears  through  the  carpet  of  fog: 

O  misty  moon, 

Persuasive  moon, 

Earth's  tides  are  ever  rising; 

By  the  awful  grace 

Of  thy  weird  white  face 

Leap  the  seas  to  thy  c    ;cing! 

Then  followed  the  voice  that  n<*d  started  the  horrid 
song.  This  time  he  was  sure  it  was  not  Miss 
Lake's  voice,  but  only  a  very  clever  imitation  of  it. 
Moreover,  it  again  ended  in  a  shriek  of  laughter 
that  froze  his  blood: 

O  misty  moon, 
Deceiving  moon, 


xvi  Preparation  189 

^/~  - 

Thy  silvery  glance  brings  sadness; 
Who  flies  to  ther 
r     ul  Tand  or  Sf 
•his    jsnd  — hi*       days  — in  — MADNESS! 

L 

Other  voices  began  to^augh  and  sing,  but  Jimbo 
stopped  his  ears,  for  he  simply  could  not  bear  any 
more.  He  felt  certain,  too,  that  these  strange  words 
to  the  moon  had  all  been  part  of  a  trap  —  a  device  to 
draw  him  to  the  window.  He  shuddered  to  think 
how  nearly  he  had  fallen  into  it,  and  determined  to 
lie  on  the  bed  and  wait  till  he  heard  his  companion 
calling,  and  knew  beyond  all  doubt  that  it  was 
she. 

But  the  night  passed  away  and  the  dawn  came, 
and  no  voice  had  called  him  forth  to  the  last  flight. 

Hitherto,  in  all  his  experiences,  there  had  been 
only  one  absolute  certainty:  the  appearance  of  the 
governess  with  the  n  .ang  light.  But  this  time 
sunrise  came  and  the  clouds  cleared  away,  and  the 
sweet  smells  of  field  and  air  stole  into  the  little 
room,  yet  without  any  i  of  the  governess.  The 
hours  passed,  and  sh,  aid  not  come,  till  finally  he 
realised  that  she  was  not  coming  at  all,  and  he  would 
have  to  spend  the  whole  aay  alone.  Something  had 
happened  to  prevent  her,  or  else  it  was  all  part  of 
her  mysterious  "plan."  Me  did  not  know,  and  all 
he  could  do  was  to  wait  d  wonder,  and  hope. 

All  day  long  he  lay  ai,     waited,  and  all  day  long 


Jimbo  CHAP. 


he  was  alone.  The  trap-door  never  once  moved; 
the  courtyard  remained  empty  and  deserted;  there 
was  no  sound  on  the  landing  or  on  the  stairs;  no 
wind  stirred  the  leaves  outside,  and  the  hot  sun 
poured  down  out  of  a  cloudless  sky.  He  stood  by 
the  open  window  for  hours  watching  the  motionless 
branches.  Everything  seemed  dead;  not  even  a 
bird  crossed  his  field  of  vision.  The  loneliness,  the 
awful  silence,  and  above  all,  the  dread  of  the 
approaching  night,  were  sometimes  more  than  he 
seemed  able  to  bear;  and  he  wanted  to  put  his  head 
out  of  the  window  and  scream,  or  lie  down  on  the 
bed  and  cry  his  heart  out.  But  he  yielded  to  neither 
impulse;  he  kept  a  brave  heart  knowing  that  this 
would  be  his  last  night  in  prison,  and  that  in  a  few 
hours'  time  he  would  hear  his  name  called  out  of  the 
sky,  and  would  dash  through  the  window  to  liberty 
and  the  last  wild  flight.  This  thought  gave  him 
courage,  and  he  kept  all  his  energy  for  the  great 
effort. 

Gradually,  once  more,  the  sunlight  faded,  and 
the  darkness  began  to  creep  over  the  land. 
Never  before  had  the  shadows  under  the  elms  looked 
so  fantastic,  nor  the  bushes  in  the  field  beyond 
assumed  such  sinister  shapes.  The  Empty  House 
was  being  gradually  invested;  the  enemy  was 
masquerading  already  under  cover  of  these  very 
shadows. 


xvi  Preparation  191 

Very  soon,  he  felt,  the  attack  would  begin,  and  he 
must  be  ready  to  act. 

The  night  came  down  at  last  with  a  strange 
suddenness,  and  with  it  the  warning  of  the  governess 
came  back  to  him,  and  he  thought  quakingly  of  the 
stricken  children  who  had  been  caught  and  deprived 
of  their  wings;  and  then  he  pulled  out  his  long  red 
feathers  and  tried  their  strength,  and  gained  thus 
fresh  confidence  in  their  power  to  save  him  when 
the  time  came. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

OFF! 

WITH  the  full  darkness  a  whole  army  of  horrors 
crept  nearer.  He  felt  sure  of  this,  though  he 
could  actually  see  nothing.  The  house  was  sur- 
rounded, the  courtyard  crowded.  Outside,  on 
the  stairs,  in  the  other  rooms,  even  on  the  roof 
itself,  waited  dreadful  things  ready  to  catch  him,  to 
tear  off  his  wings,  to  make  him  prisoner  for  ever 
and  ever. 

The  possibility  that  something  had  happened  to 
the  governess  now  became  a  probability.  Imper- 
ceptibly the  change  was  wrought;  he  could  not  say 
how  or  when  exactly;  but  he  now  felt  almost  certain 
that  the  effort  to  keep  her  out  of  the  way  had 
succeeded.  If  this  were  true  the  boy's  only  hope 
lay  in  his  wings,  and  he  pulled  them  out  to  their  full 
length  and  kissed  them  passionately,  speaking  to  the 
strong  red  feathers  as  if  they  were  living  little 
persons. 

"You  must  save  me!  You  will  save  me,  won't 
you?"  he  cried  in  his  anguish.  And  every  time  he 

192 


CHAP.   XVII  Off  I  193 

did  this  and  looked  at  them  he  gained  fresh  hope 
and  courage. 

The  problem  where  he  was  to  fly  to  had  not  yet 
insisted  on  a  solution,  though  it  lay  always  at  the 
back  of  his  mind;  for  the  final  flight  of  escape  with- 
out a  guide  had  never  been  even  a  possibility  before. 

Lying  there  alone  in  the  darkness,  waiting  for 
the  sound  of  the  voice  so  longed  for,  he  found  his 
thoughts  turning  again  to  the  moon,  and  the  strange 
words  of  the  song  that  had  puzzled  him  the  night 
before.  What  in  the  world  did  it  all  mean?  Why 
all  this  about  the  moon?  Why  was  it  a  cruel  moon, 
and  why  should  it  attract  and  persuade  and  entice 
him?  He  felt  sure,  the  more  he  thought  of  it,  that 
this  had  all  been  a  device  to  draw  him  to  the  win- 
dow—  and  perhaps  even  farther. 

The  darkness  began  to  terrify  him;  he  dreaded 
more  and  more  the  waiting,  listening  things  that  it 
concealed.  Oh,  when  would  the  governess  call  to 
him?  When  would  he  be  able  to  dash  through  the 
open  window  and  join  her  in  the  sky? 

He  thought  of  the  sunlight  that  had  flooded  the 
yard  all  day  —  so  bright  it  seemed  to  have  come  from 
a  sun  fresh  made  and  shining  for  the  first  time.  He 
thought  of  the  exquisite  flowers  that  grew  in  the 
fields  just  beyond  the  high  wall,  and  the  night 
smells  of  the  earth  reached  him  through  the  window, 
wafted  in  upon  a  wind  heavy  with  secrets  of  woods 


194  Jimbo  CHAP. 

and  fields.  They  all  came  from  a  Land  of  Magic 
that  after  to-night  might  be  for  ever  beyond  his 
reach,  and  they  went  straight  to  his  heart  and  im- 
mediately turned  something  solid  there  into  tears. 
But  the  tears  did  not  find  their  natural  expression, 
and  Jimbo  lay  there  fighting  with  his  pain,  keeping 
all  his  strength  for  the  one  great  effort,  and  waiting 
for  the  voice  that  at  any  minute  now  might  sound 
above  the  tree-tops. 

But  the  hours  passed  and  the  voice  did  not  come. 

How  he  loathed  the  room  and  everything  in  it! 
The  ceiling  stretched  like  a  white,  staring  counte- 
nance above  him;  the  walls  watched  and  listened; 
and  even  the  mantelpiece  grew  into  the  semblance  of 
a  creature  with  drawn-up  shoulders  bending  over 
him.  The  whole  room,  indeed,  seemed  to  his 
frightened  soul  to  run  into  the  shape  of  a  monstrous 
person  whose  arms  were  outstretched  in  all  directions 
to  prevent  his  escape. 

His  hands  never  left  his  wings  now.  He  stroked 
and  fondled  them,  arranging  the  feathers  smoothly 
and  speaking  to  them  under  his  breath  just  as  though 
they  were  living  things.  To  him  they  were  indeed 
alive,  and  he  knew  when  the  time  came  they  would 
not  fail  him.  The  fierce  passion  for  the  open  spaces 
took  possession  of  his  soul,  and  his  whole  being 
began  to  cry  out  for  freedom,  rushing  wind,  the 
stars,  and  a  pathless  sky. 


xvn  Off!  195 

Slowly  the  power  of  the  great,  open  Night  entered 
his  heart,  bringing  with  it  a  courage  that  enabled 
him  to  keep  the  terrors  of  the  house  at  a  distance. 

So  far,  the  boy's  strength  had  been  equal  to  the 
task,  but  a  moment  was  approaching  when  the 
tension  would  be  too  great  to  bear,  and  the  long- 
pent-up  force  would  rush  forth  into  an  act.  Jimbo 
realised  this  quite  clearly;  though  he  could  not 
exactly  express  it  in  words,  he  felt  that  his  real  hope 
of  escape  lay  in  the  success  of  that  act.  Meanwhile, 
with  more  than  a  child's  wisdom,  he  stored  up  every 
particle  of  strength  he  had  for  the  great  moment 
when  it  should  come. 

A  light  wind  had  risen  soon  after  sunset,  but  as 
the  night  wore  on  it  began  to  fail,  dropping  away 
into  little  silences  that  grew  each  time  longer.  In 
the  heart  of  one  of  these  spells  of  silence  Jimbo 
presently  noticed  a  new  sound  —  a  sound  that  he 
recognised. 

Far  away  at  first,  but  growing  in  distinctness  with 
every  dropping  of  the  wind,  this  new  sound  rose 
from  the  interior  of  the  house  below  and  came 
gradually  upon  him.  It  was  voices  faintly  singing, 
and  the  tread  of  stealthy  footsteps. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  sound,  till  at  length 
they  reached  the  door,  and  there  passed  into  the 
room  a  wave  of  fine,  gentle  sound  that  woke  no 
echo  and  scarcely  seemed  to  stir  the  air  into  vibra- 


196  Jimbo  CHAP. 

tion  at  all.  The  door  had  opened,  and  a  number 
of  voices  were  singing  softly  under  their  breath. 

And  after  the  sounds,  creeping  slowly  like  some 
timid  animal,  there  came  into  the  room  a  small  black 
figure  just  visible  in  the  faint  starlight.  It  peered 
round  the  edge  of  the  door,  hesitated  a  moment,  and 
then  advanced  with  an  odd  rhythmical  sort  of  motion. 
And  after  the  first  figure  came  a  second,  and  after 
the  second  a  third;  and  then  several  entered 
together,  till  a  whole  group  of  them  stood  on  the 
floor  between  Jimbo  and  the  open  window. 

Then  he  recognised  the  Frightened  Children  and 
his  heart  sank.  Even  they,  he  saw,  were  arrayed 
against  him,  and  took  it  for  granted  that  he  already 
belonged  to  them. 

Oh,  why  did  not  the  governess  come  for  him? 
Why  was  there  no  voice  in  the  sky?  He  glanced 
with  longing  towards  the  heavens,  and  as  the  children 
moved  past,  he  was  almost  certain  that  he  saw  the 
stars  through  their  bodies,  too. 

Slowly  they  shuffled  across  the  floor  till  they 
formed  a  semicircle  round  the  bed;  and  then  they 
began  a  silent,  impish  dance  that  made  the  flesh  creep. 
Their  thin  forms  were  dressed  in  black  gowns  like 
shrouds,  and  as  they  moved  through  the  steps  of 
this  bizarre  dance  he  saw  that  their  legs  were  little 
more  than  mere  skin  and  bone.  Their  faces  —  what 
he  could  see  of  them  when  he  dared  to  open  his 


xvn 


0/1 


eyes  —  were  pale  as  ashes,  and  their  beady  little  eyes 
shone  like  the  facets  of  cut  stones,  flashing  in  all 
directions.  And  while  they  danced  in  and  out 
amongst  each  other,  never  breaking  the  semicircle 
round  the  bed,  they  sang  a  low,  mournful  song  that 
sounded  like  the  wind  whispering  through  a  leafless 
wood. 

And  the  words  stirred  in  him  that  vague  yet 
terrible  fear  known  to  all  children  who  have  been 
frightened  and  made  to  feel  afraid  of  the  dark. 
Evidently  his  sensations  were  being  merged  very 
rapidly  now  into  those  of  the  little  boy  in  the  night- 
nursery  bed. 

There  is  Someone  in  the  Nursery 
Whom  we  never  saw  before; 

—  Why  hangs  the  moon  so  red  ?  — 
And  he  came  not  by  the  passage, 
Or  the  window,  or  the  door; 

—  Why  hangs  the  moon  so  red  ?  — 
And  he  stands  there  in  the  darkness, 
In  the  centre  of  the  floor. 

—  See,  where  the  moon  hangs  red !  — 

Someone's  hiding  in  the  passage 
Where  the  door  begins  to  swing; 

—  Why  drive  the  clouds  so  fast?  — 
In  the  corner  by  the  staircase 
There's  a  dreadful  waiting  thing: 

—  Why  drive  the  clouds  so  fast  ?  — 
.    Past  the  curtain  creeps  a  monster 


198  Jimbo  CHAP. 

With  a  black  and  fluttering  wing; 

—  See,  where  the  clouds  drive  fast !  — 

In  the  chilly  dusk  of  evening; 
In  the  hush  before  the  dawn; 

—  Why  drips  the  rain  so  cold  ?  — 
In  the  twilight  of  the  garden, 

In  the  mist  upon  the  lawn, 

—  Why  drips  the  rain  so  cold  ?  — 
Faces  stare,  and  mouth  upon  us, 
Faces  white  and  weird  and  drawn; 

—  See,  how  the  rain  drips  cold !  — 

Close  beside  us  in  the  night-time, 
Waiting  for  us  in  the  gloom, 

—  Oh !  why  sings  the  wind  so  shrill  ?  — 
In  the  shadows  by  the  cupboard, 

In  the  corners  of  the  room, 

—  Oh !  why  sings  the  wind  so  shrill  ?  — 
From  the  corridors  and  landings 
Voices  call  us  to  our  doom. 

—  Oh !  how  the  wind  sings  shrill !  — 

By  this  time  the  dreadful  dancers  had  come  much 
closer  to  him,  shifting  stealthily  nearer  to  the  bed 
under  cover  of  their  dancing,  and  always  between  him 
and  the  window. 

Suddenly  their  intention  flashed  upon  him;  they 
meant  to  prevent  his  escape! 

With  a  tremendous  effort  he  sprang  from  the 
bed.  As  he  did  so  a  dozen  pairs  of  thin,  shadowy 
arms  shot  out  towards  him  as  though  to  seize  his 


xvn  Off!  199 

wings;  but  with  an  agility  born  of  fright  he  dodged 
them,  and  ran  swiftly  into  the  corner  by  the  mantel- 
piece. Standing  with  his  back  against  the  wall  he 
faced  the  brutal  children,  and  strove  to  call  out  for 
help  to  the  governess;  but  this  time  there  was  an 
entirely  new  difficulty  in  the  way,  for  he  found  to 
his  utter  dismay  that  his  voice  refused  to  make 
itself  heard.  His  mouth  was  dry  and  his  tongue 
would  hardly  stir. 

Not  a  sound  issued  from  his  lips,  but  the  chil- 
dren instantly  moved  forwards  and  hemmed  him  in 
between  them  and  the  wall ;  and  to  reach  the  window 
he  would  have  to  break  through  this  semicircle  of 
whispering,  shadowy  forms.  Above  their  heads  he 
could  see  the  stars  shining,  and  any  moment  he 
might  hear  Miss  Lake's  voice  calling  to  him  to  come 
out.  His  heart  rose  with  passionate  longing  within 
him,  and  he  gathered  his  wings  tightly  about  him 
ready  for  the  final  dash.  It  would  take  more  than 
the  Frightened  Children  to  hold  him  prisoner  when 
once  he  heard  that  voice,  or  even  without  it ! 

Whether  they  were  astonished  at  his  boldness,  or 
merely  waiting  their  opportunity  later,  he  could  not 
tell ;  but  anyhow  they  kept  their  distance  for  a  time 
and  made  no  further  attempt  to  seize  his  feathers. 
Whispering  together  under  their  breath,  sometimes 
singing  their  mournful,  sighing  songs,  sometimes 
sinking  their  voices  to  a  confused  murmur,  they 


2oo  Jimbo  CHAP. 

moved  in  and  out  amongst  each  other  with  sound- 
less feet  like  the  shadows  of  branches  swaying  in 
the  wind. 

Then,  suddenly,  they  moved  closer  and  stretched 
out  their  arms  towards  him,  their  bodies  swaying 
rhythmically  together,  while  their  combined  voices, 
raised  just  above  a  whisper,  sang  to  him: 

Dare  you  fly  out  to-night, 
When  the  Moon  is  so  strong? 
Though  the  stars  are  so  bright, 
There  is  death  in  their  song; 
You're  a  hostage  to  Fright, 
And  to  us  you  belong ! 
Dare  you  fly  out  alone 
Through  the  shadows  that  wave, 
When  the  course  is  unknown 
And  there's  no  one  to  save? 
You  are  bone  of  our  bone, 
And  for  ever  his  slave ! 

And,  following  these  words,  came  from  some- 
where in  the  air  outside  that  much  more  dreaded 
voice  like  the  thunder  of  a  river.  Jimbo  knew  only 
too  well  to  whom  it  belonged  as  he  listened  to  the 
rhyme  of  the  West  Wind: 

For  the  Wind  of  the  West 

Is  a  wind  unblest, 

And  its  dangerous  breath 

Will  entice  you  to  death ! 
Fly  not  with  the  Wind  of  the  West,  O  child, 
With  the  terrible  Wind  of  the  West! 


XVII  Off!  201 

But  Jimbo  knew  perfectly  well  that  these  efforts 
to  stop  him  were  all  part  of  a  trap.  They  were 
lying  to  him.  It  was  not  the  Wind  of  the  West  at 
all ;  it  was  the  South  Wind !  That  at  least  he  knew 
by  the  odours  that  were  wafted  in  through  the 
window.  Again  he  tried  to  call  to  the  governess, 
but  his  tongue  lay  stiff  in  his  mouth  and  no  sound 
came. 

Meanwhile  the  children  began  to  draw  closer, 
hemming  him  in.  They  moved  almost  imper- 
ceptibly, but  he  saw  plainly  that  the  circle  was 
growing  smaller  and  smaller.  His  legs  began  to 
tremble,  and  he  felt  that  soon  he  would  collapse  and 
drop  at  their  feet,  for  his  strength  was  failing  and 
the  power  to  act  and  move  was  slowly  leaving  him. 

The  little  shadowy  figures  were  almost  touching 
him,  when  suddenly  a  new  sound  broke  the  stillness 
and  set  every  nerve  tingling  in  his  body. 

Something  was  shuffling  along  the  landing.  He 
heard  it  outside,  pushing  against  the  door.  The 
handle  turned  with  a  rattle,  and  a  moment  later  the 
door  slowly  opened. 

For  a  second  Jimbo's  breath  failed  him,  and  he 
nearly  fell  in  a  heap  upon  the  floor.  Round  the 
edge  of  the  door  he  saw  a  dim  huge  figure  come 
crawling  into  the  room  —  creeping  along  the  floor  — 
and  trailing  behind  it  a  pair  of  immense  black  wings 
that  stretched  along  the  boards.  For  one  brief 


202  Jimbo 


CHAP. 


second  he  stared,  horror-stricken,  and  wondering 
what  it  was.  But  before  the  whole  length  of  the 
creature  was  in,  he  knew.  It  was  Fright  himself! 
And  he  was  making  steadily  for  the  window! 

The  shock  instantly  galvanised  the  boy  into  a 
state  of  activity  again.  He  recovered  the  use  of  all 
his  muscles  and  all  his  faculties.  His  voice,  released 
by  terror,  rang  out  in  a  wild  shriek  for  help  to  the 
governess,  and  he  dashed  forward  across  the  room 
in  a  mad  rush  for  the  window.  Unless  he  could 
reach  it  before  the  other  he  knew  he  would  be  a 
prisoner  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  It  was  now  or 
never. 

The  instant  he  moved,  the  children  came  straight 
at  him  with  hands  outstretched  to  stop  him ;  but  he 
passed  through  them  as  if  they  were  smoke,  and 
with  almost  a  single  bound  sprang  upon  the  narrow 
window-sill.  To  do  this  he  had  to  clear  the  head 
and  shoulders  of  the  creature  on  the  floor,  and  though 
he  accomplished  it  successfully,  he  felt  himself 
clutched  from  behind.  For  a  second  he  balanced 
doubtfully  on  the  window-ledge.  He  felt  himself 
being  pulled  back  into  the  room,  and  he  combined 
all  his  forces  into  one  tremendous  effort  to  rush 
forward. 

There  was  a  ripping,  tearing  sound  as  he  sprang 
into  the  air  with  a  yell  of  mingled  terror  and  ex- 
ultation. His  prompt  action  and  the  fierce  impetus 


XVII 


Off  I  203 


had  saved  him.  He  was  free.  But  in  the  awful 
hand  that  seized  him  he  had  left  behind  the  end 
feathers  of  his  right  wing.  A  few  inches  more 
and  it  would  have  been  not  merely  the  feathers  but 
the  entire  wing  itself. 

He  dropped  to  within  three  feet  of  the  stones  in 
the  yard,  and  then,  borne  aloft  by  the  kind,  rushing 
Wind  of  the  South,  he  rose  in  a  tremendous  sweep 
far  over  the  tops  of  the  high  elms  and  out  into  the 
heart  of  the  night. 

Only  there  was  no  governess's  voice  to  guide 
him;  and  behind  him,  a  little  lower  down,  a  black 
pursuing  figure  with  huge  wings  flapped  heavily  as 
it  followed  him  with  laborious  flight  through  the 
darkness. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

HOME 

BUT  it  was  the  sound  of  something  crashing  heavily 
through  the  top  branches  of  the  elms  that  made  the 
boy  realise  he  was  actually  being  followed ;  and  all 
his  efforts  became  concentrated  into  the  desire  to 
put  as  much  distance  as  possible  between  himself 
and  the  horror  of  the  Empty  House. 

He  heard  the  noise  of  big  wings  far  beneath  him, 
and  his  one  idea  was  to  outdistance  his  pursuer  and 
then  come  down  again  to  earth  and  rest  his  wings  in 
the  branches  of  some  tree  till  he  could  devise  some 
plan  how  to  find  the  governess.  So  at  first  he  raced 
at  full  speed  through  the  air,  taking  no  thought  of 
direction. 

When  he  looked  down  all  he  could  see  was  that 
something  vague  and  shadowy,  shaking  out  a  pair  of 
enormous  wings  between  him  and  the  earth,  moved 
along  with  him.  Its  path  was  parallel  with  his  own, 
but  apparently  it  made  no  effort  to  rise  up  to  his 
higher  level.  It  thundered  along  far  beneath  him, 
and  instinctively  he  raised  his  head  and  steered  more 
and  more  upwards  and  away  from  the  world. 

204 


CHAP.  xvm.  Home  205 

The  gap  at  the  end  of  his  right  wing  where  the 
feathers  had  been  torn  out  seemed  to  make  no 
difference  in  his  power  of  flight  or  steering,  and  he 
went  tearing  through  the  night  at  a  pace  he  had 
never  dared  to  try  before,  and  at  a  height  he  had 
never  yet  reached  in  any  of  the  practice  flights.  He 
had  soared  higher  even  than  he  knew;  and  perhaps 
this  was  fortunate,  for  the  friction  of  the  lower 
atmosphere  might  have  heated  him  to  the  point  of 
igniting,  and  some  watcher  at  one  of  earth's  windows 
might  have  suddenly  seen  a  brilliant  little  meteor 
flash  through  the  night  and  vanish  into  dust. 

At  first  the  joy  of  escape  was  the  only  idea  his 
mind  seemed  able  to  grasp;  he  revelled  in  a 
passionate  sense  of  freedom,  and  all  his  energies 
poured  themselves  into  one  concentrated  effort  to 
fly  faster,  faster,  faster.  But  after  a  time,  when 
the  pursuer  had  been  apparently  outflown,  and  he 
realised  that  escape  was  an  accomplished  fact,  he 
began  to  search  for  the  governess,  calling  to  her, 
rising  and  falling,  darting  in  all  directions,  and  then 
hovering  on  outstretched  wings  to  try  and  catch 
some  sound  of  a  friendly  voice. 

But  no  answer  came,  either  from  the  stars  that 
crowded  the  vault  above,  or  from  the  dark  surface 
of  the  world  below;  only  silence  answered  his  cries, 
and  his  voice  was  swallowed  up  and  lost  in  the  im- 
.mensity  of  space  almost  the  moment  it  left  his  lips. 


206  Jimbo  CHAP. 

Presently  he  began  to  realise  to  what  an  appalling 
distance  he  had  risen  above  the  world,  and  with 
anxious  eyes  he  tried  to  pierce  the  gaping  emptiness 
beneath  him  and  on  all  sides.  But  this  vast  sea  of 
air  had  nothing  to  reveal.  The  stars  shone  like  pin- 
holes  of  gold  pricked  in  a  deep  black  curtain;  and 
the  moon,  now  rising  slowly,  spread  a  veil  of  silver 
between  him  and  the  upper  regions.  There  was  not 
a  cloud  anywhere  and  the  winds  were  all  asleep. 
He  was  alone  in  space.  Yet,  as  the  swishing  of  his 
wings  slackened  and  the  roar  of  the  air  in  his  ears 
died  away,  he  heard  in  the  short  pause  the  ominous 
beating  of  great  wings  somewhere  in  the  depths 
beneath  him,  and  he  knew  that  the  great  pursuer 
was  still  on  his  track. 

The  glare  of  the  moon  now  made  it  impossible  to 
distinguish  anything  properly,  and  in  these  huge 
spaces,  with  nothing  to  guide  the  eye,  it  was  difficult 
to  know  exactly  from  what  direction  the  sound  came. 
He  was  only  sure  of  one  thing  —  that  it  was  far 
below  him,  and  that  for  the  present  it  did  not  seem 
to  come  much  nearer.  The  cry  for  help  that  kept 
rising  to  his  lips  he  suppressed,  for  it  would  only 
have  served  to  guide  his  pursuer;  and,  moreover,  a 
cry  —  a  little  thin,  despairing  cry  —  was  instantly  lost 
in  these  great  heavens.  It  was  less  than  a  drop  in 
an  ocean. 

On  and  on  he  flew,  always  pointing  away  from 


xvm  Home  207 

the  earth,  and  trying  hard  to  think  where  he  would 
find  safety.  Would  this  awful  creature  hunt  him  all 
night  long  into  the  daylight,  or  would  he  be  forced 
back  into  the  Empty  House  in  sheer  exhaustion? 
The  thought  gave  him  new  impetus,  and  with 
powerful  strokes  he  dashed  onwards  and  upwards 
through  the  wilderness  of  space,  in  which  the  only 
pathways  were  the  little  golden  tracks  of  the  star- 
beams.  The  governess  would  turn  up  somewhere; 
he  was  positive  of  that.  She  had  never  failed  him 
yet. 

So,  alone  and  breathless,  he  pursued  his  flight, 
and  the  higher  he  went  the  more  the  tremendous 
vault  opened  up  into  inconceivable  and  untold 
distances.  His  speed  kept  increasing;  he  thought 
he  had  never  found  flying  so  easy  before;  and  the* 
thunder  of  the  following  wings  that  held  persistently 
on  his  track  made  it  dangerous  for  him  to  slacken 
up  for  more  than  a  minute  here  and  there.  The 
earth  became  a  dark  blot  beneath  him,  while  the 
moon,  rising  higher  and  higher,  grew  weirdly  bright 
and  close.  How  black  the  sky  was;  how  piercing 
the  points  of  starlight;  how  stimulating  the  strong, 
new  odours  of  these  lofty  regions!  He  realised 
with  a  thrill  of  genuine  awe  that  he  had  flown  over 
the  very  edge  of  the  world,  and  the  moment  the 
thought  entered  his  mind  it  was  flung  back  at  him 
by  a  voice  that  seemed  close  to  his  ear  one  moment, 


208  Jimbo 


CHAP. 


and  the  next  was  miles  away  in  the  space  overhead. 
Light  thoughts,  born  of  the  stars  and  the  moon  and 
of  his  great  speed,  danced  before  his  mind  in  fanciful 
array.  Once  he  laughed  aloud  at  them,  but  once 
only.  The  sound  of  his  voice  fell  unpleasantly  dead 
in  these  echoless  spaces  and  made  him  afraid. 

The  speed,  too,  affected  his  vision,  for  at  one 
moment  thin  clouds  stretched  across  his  face,  and 
the  next  he  was  whirling  through  perfectly  clear  air 
again  with  no  vestige  of  a  cloud  in  sight.  The 
same  reason  doubtless  explained  the  sudden  presence 
of  sheets  of  light  in  the  air  that  reflected  the  moon- 
light like  particles  of  glittering  ice,  and  then  suddenly 
disappeared  again.  The  terrific  speed  would  explain 
a  good  many  things,  but  certainly  it  was  curious  how 
creatures  formed  out  of  the  hollow  darkness,  like 
foam  before  a  steamer's  bows,  and  moved  noiselessly 
away  on  either  side  to  join  the  army  of  dim  life  that 
crowded  everywhere  and  watched  his  passage.  For, 
in  front  and  on  both  sides,  there  gathered  a  vast 
assembly  of  silent  forms,  more  than  shadows,  less 
than  bodily  shapes,  that  opened  up  a  pathway  as  he 
rushed  through  them,  and  then  immediately  closed 
up  their  ranks  again  when  he  had  passed.  The  air 
seemed  packed  with  living  creatures.  Space  was 
filled  with  them.  They  surrounded  him  on  all 
sides.  Yet  his  passage  through  them  was  like  the 
passage  of  a  hand  through, smoke;  it  was  easy  to 


xvra  Home  209 

make  a  pathway,  but  the  pathway  left  no  traces 
behind  it.  The  smoke  rushed  in  and  filled  the 
void. 

He  could  never  see  these  things  properly,  face  to 
face;  they  always  kept  just  out  of  the  line  of  vision, 
like  shadows  that  follow  a  lonely  walker  in  a  wood 
and  vanish  the  moment  he  turns  to  look  at  them 
over  his  shoulder.  But  ever  by  his  side,  with  a 
steady,  effortless  motion,  he  knew  they  kept  up  with 
him  —  strange  inhabitants  of  the  airless  heights, 
immense  and  misty-winged,  with  veiled,  flaming 
eyes  and  silent  feathers.  He  was  not  afraid  of 
them;  for  they  were  neither  friendly  nor  hostile; 
they  were  simply  the  beings  of  another  world,  alien 
and  unknown. 

But  what  puzzled  him  more  was  that  the  light 
and  the  darkness  seemed  separate  things,  each 
distinctly  visible.  After  each  stroke  of  his  wings  he 
saw  the  darkness  sift  downwards  past  him  through 
the  air  like  a  veil.  It  floated  all  round  him  in 
thinnest  diaphanous  texture  —  visible,  not  because 
the  moonlight  made  it  so,  but  because  in  its  inmost 
soul  it  was  itself  luminous.  It  rose  and  fell  in 
eddies,  swirling  wreaths,  and  undulations;  inwoven 
with  starbeams,  as  with  golden  thread,  it  clothed 
him  about  in  circles  of  some  magical  primordial 
substance. 

Even  the  stars,  looking  down  upon  him  from  ter- 
p 


2io  Jimbo  CHAP. 

rifying  heights,  seemed  now  draped,  now  undraped, 
as  if  by  the  sweeping  of  enormous  wings  that  stirred 
these  sheets  of  visible  darkness  into  a  vast  system 
of  circulation  through  the  heavens.  Everything  in 
these  oceans  of  upper  space  apparently  made  use 
of  wings,  or  the  idea  of  wings.  Perhaps  even 
the  great  earth  itself,  rolling  from  star  to  star, 
was  moved  by  the  power  of  gigantic,  invisible 
wings!  .  .  . 

Jimbo  realised  he  had  entered  a  forbidden  region. 
He  began  to  feel  afraid. 

But  the  only  possible  expression  of  his  fear,  and 
its  only  possible  relief,  lay  in  his  own  wings  —  and 
he  used  them  with  redoubled  energy.  He  dashed 
forward  so  fast  that  his  face  begun  to  burn,  and 
he  kept  turning  his  head  in  every  direction  for  a 
sign  of  the  governess,  or  for  some  indication  of 
where  he  could  escape  to.  In  the  pauses  of  the 
wild  flight  he  heard  the  thunder  of  the  following 
wings  below.  They  were  still  on  his  trail,  and  it 
seemed  that  they  were  gaining  on  him. 

He  took  a  new  angle,  realising  that  his  only 
chance  was  to  fly  high;  and  the  new  course  took 
him  perpendicularly  away  from  the  earth  and 
straight  towards  the  moon.  Later,  when  he  had 
outdistanced  the  other  creature,  he  would  drop  down 
again  to  safer  levels. 

Yet  the  hours  passed  and  it  never  overtook  him. 


xvm  Home  21 1 

A  measured  distance  was  steadily  kept  up  between 
them  as  though  with  calculated  purpose. 

Curious  distant  voices  shouted  from  time  to  time 
all  manner  of  sentences  and  rhymes  in  his  ears,  but 
he  could  neither  understand  nor  remember  them. 
More  and  more  the  awful  stillness  of  the  vast  regions 
that  lie  between  the  world  and  the  moon  appalled 
him. 

Then,  suddenly,  a  new  sound  reached  him  that 
at  first  he  could  not  in  the  least  understand.  It 
reached  him,  however,  not  through  the  ears,  but  by 
a  steady  trembling  of  the  whole  surface  of  his  body. 
It  set  him  in  vibration  all  over,  and  for  some  time 
he  had  no  idea  what  it  meant.  The  trembling  ran 
deeper  and  deeper  into  his  body  till  at  last  a  single, 
powerful,  regular  vibration  took  complete  possession 
of  his  whole  being,  and  he  felt  as  though  he  was 
being  wrapped  round  and  absorbed  by  this  vast  and 
gigantic  sound.  He  had  always  thought  that  the 
voice  of  Fright,  like  the  roar  of  a  river,  was  the 
loudest  and  deepest  sound  he  had  ever  heard. 
Even  that  set  his  soul  a- trembling.  But  this  new, 
tremendous,  rolling  ocean  of  a  voice  came  not  that 
way,  and  could  not  be  compared  to  it.  The  voice 
of  the  other  was  a  mere  tickling  of  the  ear  compared 
to  this  awful  crashing  of  seas  and  mountains  and 
falling  worlds.  It  must  break  him  to  pieces,  he 
felt. 


212  Jimbo  CHAP. 

Suddenly  he  knew  what  it  was,  —  and  for  a 
second  his  wings  failed  him.  The  fact  was  he  had 
reached  such  a  height  that  he  could  hear  the  roar  of 
the  world  as  it  thundered  along  its  journey  through 
space!  That  was  the  meaning  of  this  voice  of 
majesty  that  set  him  all  a-trembling.  And  before 
long  he  would  probably  hear,  too,  the  voices  of  the 
planets,  and  the  singing  of  the  great  moon.  The 
governess  had  warned  him  about  this.  At  the  first 
sound  of  these  awful  voices  she  told  him  to  turn 
instantly  and  drop  back  to  the  earth  as  fast  as  ever 
he  could  drop. 

Jimbo  turned  instinctively  and  began  to  fall. 
But,  before  he  had  dropped  half  a  mile,  he  met 
once  again  the  ascending  sound  of  the  wings  that 
had  followed  him  from  the  Empty  House. 

It  was  no  good  flying  straight  into  destruction. 
He  summoned  all  his  courage  and  turned  once 
more  towards  the  stars.  Anything  was  better  than 
being  caught  and  held  for  ever  by  Fright,  and  with  a 
wild  cry  for  help  that  fell  dead  in  the  empty  spaces, 
he  renewed  his  unending  flight  towards  the  stars. 

But,  meanwhile,  the  pursuer  had  distinctly  gained. 
Appalled  by  the  thunder  of  the  stars'  voices  above, 
yet  too  frightened  by  the  prospect  of  immediate 
capture  if  he  turned  back,  Jimbo  flew  blindly  on 
towards  the  moon,  regardless  of  consequences.  And 
below  him  the  pursuer  came  closer  and  closer. 


xviii  Home  213 

The  strokes  of  its  wings  were  no  longer  mere 
distant  thuds  that  he  heard  when  he  paused  in  his 
own  flight  to  listen;  they  were  the  audible  swishing 
of  feathers.  It  was  near  enough  for  that. 

Jimbo  could  never  properly  see  what  was  follow- 
ing him.  A  shadow  between  him  and  the  earth  was 
all  he  could  distinguish,  but  in  the  centre  of  that 
shadow  there  seemed  to  burn  two  glowing  eyes. 
Two  brilliant  lights  flashed  whenever  he  looked 
down,  like  the  lamps  of  a  revolving  lighthouse. 
But  other  things  he  saw,  too,  when  he  looked  down, 
an'd  once  the  earth  rose  close  to  his  face  so  that  he 
could  have  touched  it  with  his  hands.  The  s.ame 
instant  it  dropped  away  again  with  a  rush  of 
whirlwinds,  and  became  a  distant  shadow  miles  and 
miles  below  him.  But  before  it  went,  he  had  time 
to  see  the  Empty  House  standing  within  its  gloomy 
yard,  and  the  horror  of  it  gave  him  fresh  impetus. 

Another  time  when  the  world  raced  up  close  to 
his  eyes  he  saw  a  scene  of  a  different  kind  that 
stirred  a  passionately  deep  yearning  within  him  —  a 
house  overgrown  with  ivy  and  standing  among  trees 
and  gardens,  with  laburnums  and  lilacs  flowering  on 
smooth  green  lawns,  and  a  clean  gravel  drive  leading 
down  to  a  big  pair  of  iron  gates.  Oh,  it  all  seemed 
so  familiar'  Perhaps  in  another  minute  the  well- 
known  figures  would  have  appeared  and  spoken  to 
him.  Already  he  heard  their  voices  behind  the 


214  Jimbo  CHAP. 

bushes.  But,  just  before  they  appeared,  the  earth 
dropped  back  with  a  roar  of  a  thousand  winds,  and 
Jimbo  saw  instead  the  shadow  of  the  pursuer 
mounting,  mounting,  mounting  towards  him.  Up  he 
shot  again  with  terror  in  his  heart,  and  all  trembling 
with  the  thunder  of  the  great  star-voices  above. 
He  felt  like  a  leaf  in  a  hurricane,  "lost,  dizzy, 
shelterless.'* 

Voices,  too,  now  began  to  be  heard  more 
frequently.  They  dropped  upon  him  out  of  the 
reaches  of  this  endless  void;  and  with  them  some- 
times came  forms  that  shot  past  him  with  amazing 
swiftness,  racing  into  the  empty  Beyond  as  though 
sucked  into  a  vast  vacuum.  The  very  stars  seemed 
to  move.  He  became  part  of  some  much  larger 
movement  in  which  he  was  engulfed  and  merged. 
He  could  no  longer  think  of  himself  as  Jimbo. 
When  he  uttered  his  own  name  he  saw  merely  a 
mass  of  wind  and  colour  through  which  the  great 
pulses  of  space  and  other  planets  beat  tumultuously, 
lapping  him  round  with  the  currents  of  a  terrific 
motion  that  seemed  to  swallow  up  his  own  little 
personality  entirely,  while  giving  him  something 
infinitely  greater.  .  .  . 

But  surely  these  small  voices,  shrill  and  trumpet- 
like,  did  not  come  from  the  stars!  these  deep 
whispers  that  ran  round  the  immense  vault  overhead 
and  sounded  almost  familiarly  in  his  ears 


XVIII 


Home  215 


"Give  it  him  the  moment  he  wakes. " 

"Bring  the  ice  bag  .  .  .  quick!" 

"Put  the  hot  bottle  to  his  feet  IMMEDIATELY!" 

The  voices  shrieked  all  round  him,  turning 
suddenly  into  soft  whispers  that  died  away  some- 
where among  his  feathers.  The  soles  of  his  feet 
began  to  glow,  and  he  felt  a  gigantic  hand  laid  upon 
his  throat  and  head.  Almost  it  seemed  as  if  he 
were  lying  somewhere  on  his  back,  and  people  were 
bending  over  him,  shouting  and  whispering. 

"Why  hangs  the  moon  so  red?"  cried  a  voice 
that  was  instantly  drowned  in  a  chorus  of  un- 
intelligible whispering. 

"The  black  cow  must  be  killed,"  whispered  some- 
one deep  within  the  sky. 

"Why  drips  the  rain  so  cold?"  yelled  one  of  the 
hideous  children  close  behind  him.  And  a  third 
called  with  distant  laughter  from  behind  a  star: 

"Why  sings  the  wind  so  shrill?" 

" QUIET!"  roared  an  appalling  voice  below,  as  if 
all  the  rivers  of  the  world  had  suddenly  turned  loose 
into  the  sky.  "QUIET!" 

Instantly  a  star,  that  had  been  hovering  for  some 
time  on  the  edge  of  a  fantastic  dance,  dropped  down 
close  in  front  of  his  face.  It  had  a  glaring  disk, 
with  mouth  and  eyes.  An  icy  hand  seemed  laid  on 
his  head,  and  the  star  rushed  back  into  its  place 
in  the  sky,  leaving  a  trail  of  red  flame  behind  it. 


216  Jimbo  CHAP. 

A  little  voice  seemed  to  go  with  it,  growing  fainter 
and  fainter  in  the  distance: 

"We  dance  with  phantoms  and  with  shadows 
play." 

But,  regardless  of  everything,  Jimbo  flew  on- 
wards, and  upwards,  terrified  and  helpless  though  he 
was.  His  thoughts  turned  without  ceasing  to  the 
governess,  and  he  felt  sure  that  she  would  yet  turn 
up  in  time  to  save  him  from  being  caught  by  the 
Fright  that  pursued,  or  lost  among  the  fearful  spaces 
that  lay  beyond  the  stars. 

For  a  long  time,  however,  his  wings  had  been 
growing  more  and  more  tired,  and  the  prospect  of 
being  destroyed  from  sheer  exhaustion  now  presented 
itself  to  the  boy  vaguely  as  a  possible  alternative  — 
vaguely  only,  because  he  was  no  longer  able  to  think, 
properly  speaking,  and  things  came  to  him  more  by 
way  of  dull  feeling  than  anything  else. 

It  was  all  the  more  with  something  of  a  positive 
shock,  therefore,  that  he  realised  the  change.  For  a 
change  had  come.  He  was  now  suddenly  conscious 
of  an  influx  of  new  power  —  greater  than  anything 
he  had  ever  known  before  in  any  of  his  flights.  His 
wings  now  suddenly  worked  as  if  by  magic.  Never 
had  the  motion  been  so  easy,  and  it  became  every 
minute  easier  and  easier.  He  simply  flashed  along 
without  apparent  effort.  An  immense  driving 
power  had  entered  into  him.  He  realised  that  he 


xviii  Home  217 

could  fly  for  ever  without  getting  tired.  His  pace  in- 
creased tenfold  —  increased  alarmingly.  The  possi- 
bility of  exhaustion  vanished  utterly.  Jimbo  knew 
now  that  something  was  wrong.  This  new  driving 
power  was  something  wholly  outside  himself.  His 
wings  were  working  far  too  easily.  Then,  suddenly, 
he  understood:  His  wings  were  not  working  at 
all! 

He  was  not  being  driven  forward  from  behind; 
he  was  being  drawn  forward  by  the  moon. 

He  saw  it  all  in  a  flash:  Miss  Lake's  warning 
long  ago  about  the  danger  of  flying  too  high;  the 
last  song  of  the  Frightened  Children,  "Dare  you 
fly  out  alone  through  the  shadows  that  wave,  when 
the  course  is  unknown  and  there's  no  one  to  save?" 
the  strange  words  sung  to  him  about  the  "relentless 
misty  moon,"  and  the  object  of  the  dreadful  pursuer 
in  steadily  forcing  him  upwards  and  away  from  the 
earth.  It  all  flashed  across  his  poor  little  dazed 
mind.  He  understood  at  last. 

He  had  soared  too  high  and  had  entered  the 
sphere  of  the  moon's  attraction. 

"The  moon  is  too  strong,  and  there's  death  in 
the  stars!"  a  voice  bellowed  below  him  like  the 
roar  of  a  falling  mountain,  shaking  the  sky. 

The  child  flew  screaming  on.  There  was  nothing 
else  he  could  do.  But  hardly  had  the  roar  died 
away  when  another  voice  was  heard,  a  tender  voice, 


2i8  Jimbo 


CHAP. 


a  whispering,  sympathetic  voice,  though  from  what 
part  of  the  sky  it  came  he  could  not  tell  : 

"Arrange  the  pillows  for  his  little  head." 

But  below  him  the  wings  of  the  pursuer  were 
mounting  closer  and  closer.  He  could  almost  feel 
the  mighty  wind  from  their  feathers,  and  hear  the 
rush  of  the  great  body  between  them.  It  was  im- 
possible to  slacken  his  speed  even  had  he  wished; 
no  strength  on  earth  could  have  resisted  that  terrible 
power  drawing  upwards  towards  the  moon.  Instinc- 
tively, however,  he  realised  that  he  would  rather 
have  gone  forwards  than  backwards.  He  never 
could  have  faced  capture  by  that  dreadful  creature 
behind.  All  the  efforts  of  the  past  weeks  to  escape 
from  Fright,  the  owner  of  the  Empty  House,  now 
acted  upon  him  with  a  cumulative  effect,  and  added 
to  the  suction  of  the  moon-life.  He  shot  forward 
at  a  pace  that  increased  with  every  second. 

At  the  back  of  his  mind,  too,  lay  some  kind  of 
faint  perception  that  the  governess  would,  after  all, 
be  there  to  help  him.  She  had  always  turned  up 
before  when  he  was  in  danger,  and  she  would  not 
fail  him  now.  But  this  was  a  mere  ghost  of  a 
thought  that  brought  little  comfort,  and  merely 
added  its  quota  of  force  to  the  speed  that  whipped 
him  on,  ever  faster,  into  the  huge  white  moon-world 
in  front. 

For  this,  then,  he  had  escaped  from  the  horror 


xvni  Home 


219 


of  the  Empty  House!  To  be  sucked  up  into  the 
moon,  the  " relentless,  misty  moon"  —  to  be  drawn 
into  its  cruel,  silver  web,  and  destroyed.  The  Song 
to  the  Misty  Moon  outside  the  window  came  back 
in  snatches  and  added  to  his  terror;  only  it  seemed 
now  weeks  ago  since  he  had  heard  it.  Something 
of  its  real  meaning,  too,  filtered  down  into  his  heart, 
and  he  trembled  anew  to  think  that  the  moon  could 
be  a  great,  vast,  moving  being,  alive  and  with  a 
purpose.  .  .  . 

But  why,  oh,  why  did  they  keep  shouting  these 
horrid  snatches  of  the  song  through  the  sky? 
Trapped !  Trapped !  The  word  haunted  him 
through  the  night. 

Thy  songs  are  nightly  driven, 

From  sky  to  sky, 

Eternally, 

O'er  the  old,  grey  Hills  of  Heaven ! 

Caught!  Caught  at  last!  The  moon's  prisoner, 
a  captive  in  her  airless  caves;  alone  on  her  dead 
white  plains;  searching  for  ever  in  vain  for  the 
governess;  wandering  alone  and  terrified. 

By  the  awful  grace 

Of  thy  weird  white  face. 

The  thought  crazed  him,  and  he  struggled  like  a 
bird  caught  in  a  net.  But  he  might  as  well  have 
struggled  to  push  the  worlds  out  of  their  courses. 


22O 


Jimbo  CHAP. 


The  power  against  him  was  the  power  of  the  uni- 
verse, in  which  he  was  nothing  but  a  little,  lost, 
whirling  atom.  It  was  all  of  no  avail,  and  the  moon 
did  not  even  smile  at  his  feeble  efforts.  He  was 
too  light  to  revolve  round  her,  too  impalpable  to 
create  his  own  orbit;  he  had  not  even  the  con- 
sistency of  a  comet,  and  he  had  now  reached  the 
point  of  stagnation,  as  it  were  —  the  dead  level  —  the 
neutral  zone  where  the  attractions  of  the  earth  and 
moon  meet  and  counterbalance  one  another  —  where 
bodies  have  no  weight  and  existence  no  meaning. 

Now  the  moon  was  close  upon  him;  he  could 
see  nothing  else.  There  lay  the  vast,  shining  sea 
of  light  in  front  of  him.  Behind,  the  roar  of  the 
following  creature  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  as  he 
outdistanced  it  in  the  awful  swiftness  of  the  huge 
drop  down  upon  the  moon  mountains. 

Already  he  was  close  enough  to  its  surface  to 
hear  nothing  of  its  great  singing  but  a  deep,  confused 
murmur.  And,  as  the  distance  increased,  he  realised 
that  the  change  in  his  own  condition  increased.  He 
felt  as  if  he  were  flying  off  into  a  million  tiny  par- 
ticles —  breaking  up  under  the  effects  of  the  deadly 
speed  and  the  action  of  the  new  moon-forces.  Im- 
mense, invisible  arms,  half  silver  and  half  shadow, 
grew  out  of  the  white  disk  and  drew  him  downwards 
upon  her  surface.  He  was  being  merged  into  the 
life  of  the  moon. 


xviir  Home 


221 


There  was  a  pause.  For  a  moment  his  wings 
stopped  dead.  Their  vain  fluttering  was  all  but 
over.  .  .  . 

Hark !  Was  that  a  voice  borne  on  the  wings 
of  some  lost  wind?  Why  should  his  heart  beat  so 
tumultuously  all  at  once? 

He  turned  and  stared  into  the  ocean  of  black  air 
overhead  till  it  turned  him  dizzy.  A  violent  trem- 
bling ran  through  his  tired  being  from  head  to  foot. 
He  had  heard  a  voice  —  a  voice  that  he  knew  and 
loved  —  a  voice  of  help  and  deliverance.  It  rang  in 
shrill  syllables  up  the  empty  spaces,  and  it  touched 
new  centres  of  force  within  him  that  touched  his 
last  store  of  courage  and  strength. 

"Jimbo,  hold  on!"  it  cried,  like  a  faint,  thin, 
pricking  current  of  sound  almost  unable  to  reach 
him  through  the  seas  of  distance.  "I'm  coming; 
hold  on  a  little  longer ! " 

It  was  the  governess.  She  was  true  to  the  end. 
Jimbo  felt  his  heart  swell  within  him.  She  was 
mounting,  mounting  behind  him  with  incredible 
swiftness.  The  sound  of  his  own  name  in  these 
terrible  regions  recalled  to  him  some  degree  of  con- 
centration, and  he  strove  hard  to  fight  against 
the  drawing  power  that  was  seeking  his  destruc- 
tion. 

He  struggled  frantically  with  his  wings.  But 
between  him  and  the  governess  there  was  still  the 


222  Jimbo 


CHAP- 


power  of  Fright  to  be  overcome  —  the  very  power 
she  had  long  ago  invoked.  It  was  following  him 
still,  preventing  his  turning  back,  and  driving  him 
ever  forward  to  his  death. 

Again  the  voice  sounded  in  the  night;  and  this 
time  it  was  closer.  He  could  not  quite  distinguish 
the  words.  They  buzzed  oddly  in  his  ears  .  .  . 
other  voices  mingled  with  them  .  .  .  the  hideous 
children  began  to  shriek  somewhere  underneath 
him  .  .  .  wings  with  eyes  among  their  burning 
feathers  flashed  past  him. 

His  own  wings  folded  close  over  his  little  body, 
drooping  like  dead  things.  His  eyes  closed,  and  he 
turned  on  his  side.  A  huge  face  that  was  one  half 
the  governess  and  the  other  half  the  head  gardener 
at  home,  thrust  itself  close  against  his  own,  and  blew 
upon  his  eyelids  till  he  opened  them.  Already  he 
was  falling,  sinking,  tumbling  headlong  through  a 
space  that  offered  no  resistance. 

"Jimbo!"  shrieked  a  voice  that  instantly  died 
away  into  a  wail  behind  him. 

He  opened  his  eyes  once  more  —  for  it  was  that 
loved  voice  again  —  but  the  glare  from  the  moon  so 
dazzled  him  that  he  could  only  fancy  he  saw  the 
figure  of  the  governess,  not  a  hundred  feet  away, 
struggling  and  floundering  in  the  clutch  of  a  black 
creature  that  beat  the  air  with  enormous  wings  all 
round  her.  He  saw  her  hair  streaming  out  into  the 


xvin  Home  223 

night,  and  one  wing  seemed  to  hang  broken  and 
useless  at  her  side. 

He  was  turning  over  and  over,  like  a  piece  of 
wood  in  the  waves  of  the  sea,  and  the  governess, 
caught  by  Fright,  the  monster  of  her  own  creation, 
drifted  away  from  his  consciousness  as  a  dream 
melts  away  in  the  light  of  the  morning.  .  .  .  From 
the  gleaming  mountains  and  treeless  plains  below 
Jimbo  thought  there  rose  a  hollow  roar  like  the 
mocking  laughter  of  an  immense  multitude  of  people, 
shaking  with  mirth.  The  Moon  had  got  him  at 
last,  and  her  laughter  ran  through  the  heaven  like  a 
wave.  Revolving  upon  his  own  little  axis  so  swiftly 
that  he  neither  saw  nor  heard  anything  more,  Jimbo 
dropped  straight  down  upon  the  great  satellite. 

The  light  of  the  moon  flamed  up  into  his  eyes 
and  dazzled  him. 

But  what  in  the  world  was  this? 

How  could  the  moon  dwindle  so  suddenly  to  the 
size  of  a  mere  lamp  flame? 

How  could  the  whole  expanse  of  the  heavens 
shrink  in  an  instant  to  the  limits  of  a  little,  cramped 
room? 

In  a  single  second,  before  he  had  time  to  realise 
that  he  felt  surprise,  the  entire  memory  of  his  recent 
experiences  vanished  from  his  mind.  The  past 
became  an  utter  blank.  Like  a  wreath  of  smoke 
everything  melted  away  as  if  it  had  never  been  at 


224  Jimbo  CHAP. 

all.  The  functions  of  the  brain  resumed  their  normal 
course.  The  delirium  of  the  past  few  hours  was  over. 

Jimbo  was  lying  at  home  on  his  bed  in  the  night 
nursery,  and  his  mother  was  bending  over  him.  At 
the  foot  of  the  bed  stood  the  doctor  in  black.  The 
nurse  held  a  lamp,  only  half  shaded  by  her  hand,  as 
she  approached  the  bedside. 

This  lamp  was  the  moon  of  his  delirium  —  only 
he  had  quite  forgotten  now  that  there  had  ever  been 
any  moon  at  all. 

The  little  thermometer,  thrust  into  his  teeth 
among  the  stars,  was  still  in  his  mouth.  A  hot- 
water  bottle  made  his  feet  glow  and  burn.  And 
from  the  walls  of  the  sick-room  came  as  it  were  the 
echoes  of  recently  uttered  sentences:  "Take  his 
temperature!  Give  him  the  medicine  the  moment 
he  wakes!  Put  the  hot  bottle  to  his  feet  .  .  . 
Fetch  the  ice  bag.  .  .  .  Quick !" 

"Where  am  I,  mother?"  he  asked  in  a  whisper. 

"You're  in  bed,  darling,  and  must  keep  quite 
quiet.  You'll  soon  be  all  right  again.  It  was  the 
old  black  cow  that  tossed  you.  The  gardener  found 
you  by  the  swinging  gate  and  carried  you  in.  ... 
You've  been  unconscious!" 

"How  long  have  I  been  uncon ?"  Jimbo 

could  not  manage  the  whole  word. 

"About  three  hours,  darling." 

Then  he  fell  into  a  deep,  dreamless  sleep,  and 


xvni  Home  225 

when  he  woke  long  after  it  was  early  morning,  and 
there  was  no  one  in  the  room  but  the  old  family 
nurse,  who  sat  watching  beside  the  bed.  Something 
—  some  dim  memory  —  that  had  stirred  his  brain  in 
sleep,  immediately  rushed  to  his  lips  in  the  form  of 
an  inconsequent  question.  But  before  he  could 
even  frame  the  sentence,  the  thought  that  prompted 
it  had  slipped  back  into  the  deeper  consciousness  he 
had  just  left  behind  with  the  trance  of  deep  sleep. 

But  the  old  nurse,  watching  every  movement, 
waiting  upon  the  child's  very  breath,  had  caught  the 
question,  and  she  answered  soothingly  in  a  whisper : 

"Oh,  Miss  Lake  died  a  few  days  after  she  left 
here,"  she  said  in  a  very  low  voice.  "But  don't 
think  about  her  any  more,  dearie.  She'll  never 
frighten  children  again  with  her  silly  stories." 

"DIED!" 

Jimbo  sat  up  in  bed  and  stared  into  the  shadows 
behind  her,  as  though  his  eyes  saw  something  she 
could  not  see.  But  his  voice  seemed  almost  to 
belong  to  someone  else. 

"  She  was  really  dead  all  the  time,  then,"  he  said 
below  his  breath. 

Then  the  child  fell  back  without  another  word, 
and  dropped  off  into  the  sleep  which  was  the  first 
step  to  final  recovery. 


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